Kiss the Cook
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: AU - 1998 & 2007. With his brother Sean as his matchmaker, Aaron Hotchner begins to wonder if he'll ever find the woman of his dreams. One day, however, he does; her name is Emily Prentiss. But when Emily leaves for Yale, forcing them apart, will their paths ever cross once more? Or will their love be forgotten? Rated M according to the new FFN guidelines. NOW COMPLETE.
1. Part One: The Matchmaker

**Author's Note: You thought you could escape me, huh? ;) Well, not so fast - I'm back with yet another epic, a lighter and funnier one at that, featuring none other than Sean Hotchner! I've had this idea in my head for so long, and it finally just came out...so I sincerely hope you enjoy it. As always, thank you so much for reading! Feedback would be much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

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><p><em><strong>- 1998 -<strong>_

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><p>"I hate you."<p>

Holding his phone to his ear with one hand as he toweled down a table with his other, Sean Hotchner smirked. "Hello to you, too, big brother. I take it the date didn't go well?"

Aaron Hotchner – nicknamed Hotch by his fellow agents – scowled at the phone, watching, out of the corner of his eye, as the ditzy blonde he had previously been dining with hurried away. Away from him. "That's an understatement," Hotch said flatly.

Sean clucked. "What happened this time?"

"Same as the last; I told her I worked for the FBI and she freaked out."

"Oh, _no_. Tell me she didn't pull the whole 'oh my God, you own a gun and know how to use it?' thing," Sean grimaced.

"No, she did," Hotch confirmed. "She took it a step further by asking me if I have to kill people and if I ever had. Of course, I told her I did –"

"Aaron, do you _ever_ listen to me? How many times have I told you to never talk about being in the FBI?" Sean rolled his eyes. "Really, how hard would it be to say you're a _banker_?"

"Oh, yeah, because lying is the best way to start a relationship, right?" Hotch countered, leaving a couple bills – enough to cover dinner and a fairly large tip – on the table and walking to his car. "Tell me why you've appointed yourself as my personal matchmaker again?" he droned.

"Because your job is absurdly time-consuming and leaves you with no social life whatsoever, but you still are in need of a lady friend," Sean rattled off expertly. After all, it wasn't the first time he had had to explain.

"Well, you're fired," Hotch said, sitting in his car and closing his eyes in exhaustion.

"Hey, hey," Sean objected immediately. "Not yet, okay? Give me one more chance."

"Sean, I've given you 'one more chance' three times now," Hotch pointed out. "Thank you for your help, but it's getting me nowhere."

Sean sighed. "Seriously, Aaron. I know this girl –"

"_No."_

"Her name is Emily. She's a brunette, twenty-seven years old, absolutely _gorgeous_…like supermodel gorgeous," Sean persisted. "She's got a great sense of humor, albeit a dry one, like yours. And she's sweet. And _gorgeous_. Hell, I'd date her –"

"Then why aren't you?" Hotch asked warily.

Sean glanced behind him as he heard the telltale sound of quiet, female laughter. "She turned me down because I'm quote unquote, 'a caricature'," he recounted.

Hotch couldn't help it; he laughed. "I like her already."

This time, it was Sean's turn to scowl. "You're _funny_, Aaron," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "So, you want to meet her?"

Hotch bit his lip in contemplation. "I'm not so sure…"

Sean huffed. "One more chance, man. That's all I'm asking for. One chance to redeem myself."

Hotch was silent.

"I _know_ you'll like her. She's a different class of woman, Aaron."

Finally, Hotch sighed. "Fine," he relented. "One more chance."

Sean grinned. _Victory._ "Great! Why don't you drive on out to my restaurant? She'd like to meet you."

Hotch's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "You _work_ with her?" he barked into his phone.

But Sean had already hung up.

~.~.~

When Hotch pulled up to Sean's restaurant, however, he saw that it was empty; aside from his, only one car – and Sean's beaten down Harley – was parked in the lot. Striding toward the front cautiously, he was about to raise a hand to knock on the locked door when it swung open.

"Sorry, we're closed," a slender brunette said, peering at him as she leaned against the doorframe.

Hotch practically did a double-take as he looked at her. _She's gorgeous…like supermodel gorgeous. _Sean's words from earlier echoed in his ears.

Was this the brunette Sean had recommended on the phone?

Hotch shook his head idly. "Could I talk to Sean?" he asked. "Please?"

"Sean?" she echoed, her expressive brown eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "I think he's in the back…"

"Aaron!" Having overheard their conversation, Sean emerged, a wide grin on his face. Bringing Hotch in for a hug, he clapped him on the back. "It's good to see you, man. Come in, come in," he beckoned.

"Thanks," Hotch said to both Sean and the brunette, a handsome smile hinting at his lips.

Sean was sitting him down when he caught sight of the brunette relocking the front door. "Oh, wow, where are my manners?" he said suddenly, pulling Hotch up to stand again. "Emily," he called, smiling when she raised an eyebrow and walked over, "this is my brother, Aaron. Aaron," he said in turn, "meet Emily Prentiss."

Hotch actually felt a spark run through their fingers when Emily extended her hand to shake his. "_You're_ Sean's brother," she said conversationally, biting the corner of her lip then licking it absentmindedly. "I would never have guessed. Pleased to meet you."

Hotch's smile was full-blown now, dimples and all. "The pleasure's mine," he said in return, otherwise speechless as Emily shot him a pretty smile of her own, coupled with an almost shy laugh.

Taking in her dark, sparkling eyes and her sheer charm, Hotch knew that what he had told Sean on the phone had been absolutely correct.

He liked Emily already.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you sincerely for taking the time to read. If you have the time, please leave a review; short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day, and they are the best motivation and inspiration for me! :) Stay tuned for the next chapter!<strong>


	2. Call Me

**Author's Note: This took me _way_ too long to write; I'm almost ashamed to admit it. I guess it's because I'm always awkward at conversation at dates (especially first dates)...but anywho, here's to hoping y'all enjoy this chapter! :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"Aaron, is it?"<p>

Hotch tilted his head to the side at the address, his lips curving upward slightly as Emily came to sit in front of him. "It is," he said, nodding.

Emily looked at him intently, studying his features. "You look nothing like Sean," she laughed, a mirthful expression donning her fine features.

Hotch's smile widened. "So I've heard. Apparently our only similarities are our eyes and our -"

"Dimples," Emily interrupted, her eyes shining. _God, he's handsome_. "Sean left that bit out of his description of you." Upon realizing that she had just said that aloud, a blush began to color her cheeks. "I see the resemblance now," she said quickly, trying in vain to mask her embarrassment.

_She's so pretty when she blushes._ "Well, you're one of the few," he said, watching intently as she idly toyed with a strand of her hair.

As a pause briefly lapsed between them, Emily dropped her gaze to the red and white checkered cloth covering the table they were sitting at. "So…I've heard a lot about you from your brother," she eventually said conversationally, smiling kindly.

Hotch chuckled quietly. "Oh, Lord. I can't imagine what he has told you. And I don't think I want to know."

Emily couldn't help it; she openly chuckled at that. "There's nothing to worry about," she assured, absentmindedly swirling her straw through the glass of water sitting in front of her.

"I've heard a lot about you as well," Hotch said, biting his lip amusedly as Emily's eyes immediately widened.

_"No,"_ she groaned. "All good, I hope."

"All good," he repeated. "Though…I heard you called him a caricature."

Emily burst into laughter. "I heard him on the phone while he was talking to you. Of course, it didn't connect in my mind that it _was_ you he was talking about…" she shook her head, "but yes," she grinned. "Yes, I did."

"I already have so much respect for you," Hotch said, his heart skipping a beat as their dark gazes met. He cleared his throat, trying not to let the gorgeous brunette have such a large effect on him. Christ, he had only known her for less than thirty minutes, and he was already intrigued. "You work here as a chef?"

"A damn good one," they heard Sean call out from the back, where he was arranging dishes.

Emily ran a hand through her hair, grinning earnestly. "He's just saying that; sure, I can cook a mean steak and make amazing, beautiful-looking desserts, but don't expect me to make seafood any better than average." She rested her chin in her intertwined hands. "You?"

"I can't cook at all. Sean was the lucky one with those genes," Hotch quipped.

"I'm sure you can cook _something_," Emily smiled. "And no, I meant, where do _you_ work?"

"Oh." They shared a quiet laugh. It was then that Hotch realized just how hesitant he was to tell her of his profession. This is where the line had been drawn with the other women; they had been wonderful, but the moment he mentioned work…they had run away. Hotch sighed to himself. "I, uh…I work at the FBI. The BAU, really," he clarified. "The Behavioral -"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit? _Really?_" Emily's jaw dropped open in sheer awe. "Sean didn't mention _that_ either," she said incredulously. "Wow, the BAU. I've never met an actual profiler before. That's amazing."

Hotch actually did a double-take. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" he stuttered disbelievingly.

"That's amazing," she repeated. "I've always been interested in forensic psychology," she revealed. "I guess you could say that being a profiler would be somewhat of a dream job for me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love being a chef, and this restaurant is practically my second home…but behavioral analysis…" Her voice trailed away.

Once again, Hotch was stunned. How was it that he was lucky enough to have met such an incredible woman? He made a mental note to thank Sean profusely. "I'm going to be completely honest, I don't get that a lot; people saying my profession is amazing, I mean. Usually people - and by people, I mean women," he said frankly, "tend to…well, freak out."

"What, is it the whole idea of you conversing with serial killers on a regular basis and studying them and potentially thinking like them?" Emily queried knowingly.

"Yes. Exactly that."

It was a while before Emily gestured with a tiny shrug. "I guess it's the same for me. I've already begun taking classes in criminal justice, forensic science, and psychology…and the moment I mention that to any man I may come across, I always get the same response. The concept of a girl with a gun is apparently a turn-off," she said flatly, shaking her head disappointedly. "Society is naive," she sighed, gazing at him.

He nodded in agreement. "That it is."

A full moment of less than comfortable silence blanketed the dining room before Emily, in turn, cleared her throat. "And this is where I become awkward," she sighed.

Hotch barely realized that it had become quiet in the back - Sean was listening - before laughing almost nervously. "Me, too," he admitted, dropping his gaze to his hands.

"I'll have to say it eventually, so I might as well say it now; I've never been lucky with dating," Emily confessed. "Your brother…he's such a wonderful person, and a great friend, but _God_…he's an awful matchmaker."

They both laughed uproariously. "Tell me about it," Hotch said sympathizingly.

"But you..." Emily continued. "You're different. I was just about to give up, really. Sean begged me, said he had one final card in his deck. And when he said his 'card' was his brother, I said to myself, 'This guy's family to Sean. Sean wouldn't tell me about him unless he was a really good guy, and I trust that judgment. Really, how bad can he be?'" She shot him a small yet genuine smile which he graciously returned. "I didn't know - I never expected - I'd meet someone just like me."

Hotch's expression softened, if possible, even further at her words. She really was kind-hearted, just as Sean had described. "I gave Sean one more chance before coming here tonight," he explained. "I haven't exactly been lucky myself. The last girl I tried to date ran out on me when I told her I carried a gun with me twenty-four-seven. I was pretty much resigned to being single forever. Then he said he knew this woman; that she was 'a different class of woman' and that she was gorgeous, and kind, and funny…and he seemed so sincere about it, too. And desperate to redeem himself. So, I went for it. And I have to say...I'm glad I did."

Emily felt her cheeks warming at his compliments. "So, you're pleased?" she teased.

"Exceptionally so," he said honestly. There was a brief pause. "You?"

"Yes," she said confidently. "Very much so." Suddenly, as if something in her mind clicked, Emily glanced at her watch. Once again, her eyes went wide. _"Shit," _she breathed, immediately bringing up a hand to cover her mouth at her slip. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I don't usually curse like a sailor, but I just realized that I forgot I promised I'd feed my elderly neighbor's cat in the morning, and I know for a fact dear old Nancy would have my skin hanging on her wall if Fluffy was hungry for even a split second." She rose to her feet, her eyes crinkling at the corners as Hotch followed suit. Grabbing a napkin, Emily reached for the pen tucked behind her ear. "Here's my number," she said, writing rapidly in an almost illegible scrawl. Reaching forward to tuck it into Hotch's jacket pocket, she shot him her hundredth smile of the night. "Call me, will you?"

Hotch smiled in return, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. "I will," he promised.

And then, with a sweetly murmured "good night" and a louder one for Sean, she turned and left, leaving Hotch to gaze behind her at her disappearing retreating figure.

Before Hotch knew it, his brother was standing behind him, a look of pure smugness written clearly across his face. "You can thank me later, big brother. I take check and, of course, cash, but a month's supply of coffee works, too."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to leave a review, no matter how short. They always make me smile. :) No account is needed!<strong>**


	3. Tonight

**Author's Note: I'm so glad y'all are loving this story so far! I hope I can keep pleasing; I do think y'all will like this chapter! At least, I hope so. :) As always, thank you ever so much for taking the time to read and review. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"Is there something you want to tell me?"<p>

Hotch started when he heard the telltale voice of David Rossi in his ear. Confusion clearly written across his handsome features, Hotch raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Rossi gave his friend and protégé a sly smile. "Someone has a lady friend."

Hotch glanced around the bullpen quickly, letting out a sigh when he realized it was empty except for them. "You can't possibly know that," he hissed, his eyes narrowing. "Who told you?"

Rossi laughed warmly. "Aaron, do you forget what we do for a living? I don't have to wait for someone to tell me these things; I just know. I can see it in your body language; there's a noticeable spring in your step, your eyes don't look as dull as they usually do, you keep absentmindedly touching your jacket pocket…"

"I do?" Hotch grimaced, internally slapping a palm to his forehead.

Rossi nodded, still smiling. "So, I'm right, aren't I? Aaron Hotchner has a _girlfriend_," he said in mock disbelief.

Again, Hotch glanced around the room. "I would appreciate if you would not broadcast my private and social life to every one in the world," he quipped, his visage of feigned frustration disrupted by the smile of his own that began curving his lips. "But yes, you're right. Though, we haven't gone on a date yet, so I can't _really _call her my girlfriend. But she gave me her number. _And_ she didn't run away from me like all the others did, so that's a major plus," he said flatly.

"So, in other words, she's your girlfriend," Rossi persisted with a smirk, clapping him on the back. "Congrats, kid. It's about time." Then he shot the other man a classic Rossi wink. "She pretty?"

Hotch couldn't help it as his smile grew proudly. "Gorgeous," he answered, once again touching his jacket pocket. Over the day, it had become habitual, only because in said pocket was a very special restaurant napkin, a napkin with a very special woman's phone number written on it. God, it had only been a day and he already was impatient to call Emily. He really wanted to see her again. She had the uncanny ability to make him smile, what with her carefree spirit and her dry humor.

He was pulled out of his daydreaming when he heard Rossi speaking once more. "Come on, Hotch, give me more than that. Blonde? Brunette? Fiery redhead?" he prompted.

"Brunette, tall, slender frame, breathtaking smile, full red lips, porcelain skin, and eyes the color of ebony," Hotch rattled off, still lost in his thoughts. "That's not it, either," he said sometime later. "She's so funny and strong-willed; just after one conversation with her, I can tell she's so much like me."

Rossi's smile gradually changed from a sly one to a gentler one. "I'm glad. I'm sure she's good for you. She sounds like quite the catch."

Nodding slowly, Hotch let pass one final smile. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, she really is."

~.~.~

"Call her."

For seemingly the hundredth time that day, Hotch's head snapped up at the sound of Rossi's voice. "What?"

"You've been putting it off for the entire day," the older man noted astutely. "Call her."

Hotch worried away at his bottom lip as he gathered his belongings together, prepared to leave the building for the night. "I want to...but, I mean, we just met yesterday. You don't think it would be..._clingy_, or something, if I called her so soon and asked her out? I _really_ want to," he said again. "But I...I don't want to do anything wrong with her. I can't explain how I felt when she and I talked yesterday; she's captivating. And I don't want to screw this up, whatever it is, in the same way I've screwed up the others. Do you know what I mean?"

It was at this time that Rossi was struck by just how innocent and ultimately different Hotch was in comparison to himself. Hotch hadn't fully experienced the world yet; sure, he was far from inexperienced, but hearing him talk about the woman on his mind...it was clear that Emily was the first woman he truly felt drawn to. The others may have been beautiful, but they didn't have that telltale spark.

Strangely, it made Rossi wish that he could go back in time and take back some of his worse decisions. It made him wish he was young again.

"You're only thirty-three once," Rossi said sagely. "When you get to be my age, you won't have nearly as much leeway to live life to the fullest. So, enjoy yourself. If I'm right - and I nearly always am - then she's probably been waiting for a phone call all day. _Call_ _her_, Aaron."

And, thanking his friend profusely, Hotch watched as Rossi left the Bureau building, his bags and paperwork in hand. Right as he turned out the door, Hotch pulled out his phone and the napkin on which Emily's number was written. Running a thumb over the numbers idly, he dialed them into his phone and held it to his ear, his heart pounding wildly.

_God, get a grip, Hotchner,_ he internally chided, as he anxiously waited for Emily to pick up. _You've gone on dates before. Sure, Emily's a gorgeous woman, but you shouldn't let that intimidate you. Nothing should intimidate you. You're a successful, good-looking man, and -_

"Hello?"

Any resolve he had been building up with his internal pep talk was diminished the moment he heard her effortlessly husky voice. Clearing his throat, Hotch began pacing before his car. "Hey, Emily? This is Aaron."

From her spot in the restaurant's kitchen, Emily's face bloomed into a full-on ecstatic grin. "Hey," she greeted happily. "I'm glad I didn't give you the wrong number," she laughed. "I've been known to write complete crap when I'm in a hurry. Go ahead; call me scatterbrained."

"I would never," Hotch said gentlemanly, laughing along with her. "So, listen, uh...I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed meeting and talking with you yesterday. And, well, I was wondering, maybe if you're free tomorrow night, if you'd let me take you out for dinner," he said, somehow not stumbling over his words. He gave himself a pat on the back.

Emily bit her lip at his words. "I'm actually going to be really busy all day tomorrow," she said apologetically. "I've got a restaurant opening to be at all morning, and then a catering event Sean and I are hosting for a wedding and after party. It's great for business, but for a social life...not so much."

Hotch shook his head, struggling to keep a smile on his face. "That's completely fine," he assured. "I know what you mean about work interfering with your social life; the same goes for me."

_"But_," Emily interjected hopefully, "I'm free tonight," she offered.

"Tonight?" Hotch echoed, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "Tonight would work," he realized with sudden happiness. "Do you like Italian?"

She grinned. "Italian is my favorite," she revealed, rolling her eyes at Sean as he walked by, waggling his eyebrows. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," Hotch smiled, shrugging regardless of the fact that no one could see him. "So...what time would be good for you?"

"Well, I get out in thirty minutes, so...eight, maybe?"

"Eight sounds great. Where would you like me to to pick you up?"

_Such a gentleman_, Emily beamed. Rattling off the address of her apartment, she began picking at the hem of her blouse. "So, I'll see you then?"

"You will," Hotch vowed. "It's a date."

"It's a date," she repeated, her cheeks heating with a gentle blush.

As the line went dead as Emily hung up to end her shift, Hotch climbed into his car and turned his key into the ignition with shaking fingers. _Tonight_, he thought marvelously. _I'm going to see Emily tonight._

And just like that, he began freaking out.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thoughts? <strong>If you have the time, please leave a review! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day! :) <strong>**


	4. Cannoli and a Kiss

**Author's Note: I just have to say it - just four chapters in, I am literally obsessed with this story. I am confident that, if I had one whole day planned out to do nothing but write (which would be amazing), I could probably wring this entire story out. And I have at least eleven more chapters planned, so go figure. ;) That being said, I am so immensely thrilled with the positive and enthusiastic feedback I've been receiving from you all - I haven't had the chance to respond to each review individually, and I apologize for that, but I want you all to know that the time you put into reading and reviewing is so greatly appreciated. Thank you so much! **

**So now, ****without further ado...**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Dashing about in her brownstone, Emily ran a hand through her slightly damp hair in frustration. It had been too long since she had actually cared about a first date…and now, she had absolutely no idea what to wear. She had gathered that the restaurant wasn't so upscale that she needed to wear a dress; but what about slacks? Did she wear jeans? Did she wear a skirt? <em>God, sometimes being a woman was just so difficult<em>, Emily thought, wanting to scream.

Little did she know, Hotch was having the same troubles she was.

Finally settling with a grey skirt and a deep red blouse to match it, Emily was barely finished doing her hair when her doorbell rang.

Her smoky eyes widened just a titch.

_He was here._

Unable to help herself, Emily felt an indescribable excitement begin to course through her body. With any other man, she would have berated herself at being so outwardly emotional; after all, she hardly knew Aaron Hotchner. But then, she remembered how easily they had gotten along, how right it had felt when they spoke about the most trivial of things…

…and just like that, her heartbeat sped up once more.

With one last run of her fingers through her slightly wavy locks, Emily took in a deep breath and strode to her door, swinging it open to reveal the handsome man she had met just a day before.

"Hi," she breathed, her eyes sparkling.

Hotch returned her smile with a genuine one of his own. "Hey," he returned. "Wow, you look _great_."

Emily felt her cheeks begin to heat. "Thank you," she said sweetly. "You look quite good yourself."

"Thank you," he chuckled lightly. "You ready to go?"

Emily nodded, motioning into her brownstone invitingly. "Let me just get my purse; it may take me a minute, so why don't you come inside?"

~.~.~

"You were right; all the food here really does taste good," Emily said over the music playing in the background, portioning off another bite of her seafood brodetto with her fork. "I can taste the parmesan…mmm, and the garlic-butter sauce mixed with the bucatini pasta..."

"I'm glad you like it," Hotch responded sincerely, smiling at her over his glass of white wine.

"I do, immensely so. I guess that's what happens when you're a chef; your interest in and penchant for good food increases tenfold with each day that passes." She shrugged it off with a quiet laugh. "But anyway…" their gazes met, "tell me something about yourself."

"You mean it's time for _Twenty Questions?_" Hotch joked, making her laugh even more. He was already enchanted by the sound; not that he would tell her that, but still. It was only the truth.

"I'm totally okay with _Twenty Questions_," Emily finally said playfully, pulling him back to the present, "as long as you make them interesting. I'll even go first."

"First at asking, or first at answering?"

Emily smirked. "Sean told me you used to be a lawyer; I can see it now." They shared a grin. "I'll answer first."

"If you insist," Hotch said gallantly. "Question number one," he introduced in a ridiculous game show host voice that made Emily almost choke on her food. "Describe yourself in one word."

"That is _so_ not a question," Emily retorted, already enjoying herself more than she had in much too long.

"Oh, come on," he coaxed.

"_Fine." _She gave it some thought. "Quirky," she said after a while. "I'm a nerd. I'm clumsy, awkward at times, but –"

"But you're beautiful," Hotch inserted.

Emily blushed. "What is it with you and compliments?" she asked rhetorically, her voice gentle as she touched his hand unconsciously. "Thank you. You're too kind. And now…it's my turn," she said mock-threateningly.

"Bring it on," Hotch countered, internally noticing that there was something about Emily that brought him out of his shell and encouraged him to live a little.

Or maybe it was Emily herself.

"You asked for it; what is the craziest thing you've ever done? No, no, scratch that," Emily gasped, suddenly feeling ruthless. "Where is…" she began slowly, "the craziest place you've ever had sex?"

This time, Hotch really did choke on his food. Luckily, as he regained the ability to breathe, he heard something in the background; his saving grace. "Hey, my favorite song is playing." Rising to his feet, he held out a hand for her to take and nodded over to where several couples were slow dancing. "Dance with me?"

Emily looked at him incredulously, an expression of mirth still flirting at her features. "You are _such_ a spoilsport," she teased. "I won't dance unless you answer my question."

"Not even if I say please?" he added, his tone of voice warm and appealing.

Emily looked at him for a long minute, struggling to stand her ground and keep a straight face. But then he smiled, his dimples came out to play, and Emily had no choice but to concede. He was just too damn handsome!

"Fine. I'll dance with you," she said, taking his hand and reveling in the small contact. "But I'll get an answer out of you one of these days."

"I don't doubt it."

~.~.~

"So, you're a Beatles fan, huh?"

Hotch looked down at Emily, who was peering up at him curiously as they swayed back and forth to_ Something_. "I am. I guess it's obvious?"

"Just a bit," she smiled, closing her eyes as she listened to him hum along, muttering the lyrics every once and a while.

"Are you still hungry?" Hotch asked after a beat of comfortable silence. They had both finished their dinner relatively quickly; the food was just too delicious.

"Not really," Emily murmured. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you wanted dessert," Hotch brushed off.

"Mmmm," Emily hummed. "I don't know if I can," she laughed.

"We could share," he suggested.

"That depends; what do they have?"

"Well, their cannoli is amazing. They also have zeppoli – you know, the little Italian donuts with powdered sugar – and apple crostata."

"Let me guess; the crostata has almond biscotti crumble?"

"And a shortbread cookie crust," Hotch said, smiling.

"But you recommend the cannoli," Emily queried, returning his smile as he nodded in response. "I _love_ cannoli. I love making it, too. The ricotta cream, the crumbled pistachios or chocolate chips – whichever type I feel like cooking up. And then, finally dusting it off with powdered sugar…"

This time, it was Hotch's turn to laugh. "So, I'm guessing that's a yes?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound too hopeful.

"It sure is; as long as we share."

~.~.~

"Turn right here."

Hotch smiled at Emily's soft voice coming from beside him. "Yes, ma'am," he said just as quietly. Driving one final block down the street, he pointed to a building they were approaching. "That's your brownstone, right?"

"Yes, sir," she returned impishly, poking fun at his previous response. Undoing her seatbelt as they pulled up to the curb, Emily watched as Hotch climbed out of the car and headed to her side door, holding it open for her in his purely, gentlemanly way.

"Thank you," she sighed. "Not just for being such a gentleman; but for treating me to dinner, sharing your time with me, and indulging me with the best date I've had in…forever."

Hotch's smile only widened even further. "I'm really glad you enjoyed tonight. I did, too; you make for amazing company, and I had a wonderful time." They were near the entrance now. "I'll see you soon?" he inquired, not bothering to hide the hopefulness this time.

"You will," Emily promised. "Definitely." With one final, dazzling smile, she gave him a tiny wave. "Good night, Aaron."

"Good night." She was climbing the short flight of stairs leading up to her door and turning to enter her home when Hotch spoke once more. "Hey…Emily?"

Her hair whipped to the side as she faced him. "Yes?"

Hotch shifted his weight from one side to another. _Come on, don't chicken out now. _"Do you think I could…could I…" He cleared his throat. "Could I kiss you, please?"

Emily felt her heart warming at his simple, sweet request. She didn't normally allow for kisses on the first date…but she figured, just this once, she could make an exception. Her mouth still curved in a pretty smile, she tilted her head to the side. "Go for it," she breathed playfully.

Slowly mounting the steps, Hotch paused as he was but an inch from Emily. "I don't know if I've told you this yet," he whispered on the wind, "but you have the prettiest eyes." As she blushed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night, he felt his heart skip a beat.

And then, the distance between them was diminished, and his lips found hers.

It was the kind of kiss movies centered around; gentle, but not shy, curious, but not persistently so, wonderful…and perfect. Emily had expected it to be awkward at first; after all, she didn't have the greatest track record for first kisses, or dates in general. But when they finally broke apart in need of oxygen, Emily found herself completely overwhelmed by a flood of sensation.

All because of one simple kiss.

"Careful there, Hotchner," she managed breathlessly, her voice the slightest bit husky. "You just might sweep me off my feet."

Hotch could help it; he laughed. Brushing a tendril of hair from her face just to give himself an excuse to touch her, he let out a contented sigh. "Have a good night, Emily."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Emily by her door, her lips still tingling from their embrace.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you ever so much for taking the time out of your day to read this story. I appreciate it, and would sincerely love it if you could leave me a review; no matter how short or long, your feedback means the world to me. No account needed! :)<strong>


	5. Not Like Most Girls

**Author's Note: Because my life has been so busy these past few days, I haven't really gotten a chance to indulge myself in long, uninterrupted writing time. That being said, I really wanted to have a chapter up this week, so here you are! It's a little short, and I apologize in advance...but I do believe you'll like it; especially what it is slowly building up to. :) As always, thank you so much for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Somebody got some."<p>

Hotch almost choked on his early morning coffee as his brother's sing-song voice sounded through the phone. "Good morning to you, too, Sean," he droned.

"You did, didn't you?" Sean said in return, choosing to ignore Hotch. "Because Emily just came in through the door, and she's absolutely glowing."

As much as the image of a glowing, brightly smiling Emily made Hotch's heart flutter, he couldn't help but feel incredulous; he never could get used to Sean's crude, singleminded ways. _"Sean,"_ Hotch bit out. "It was our first date," he reminded pointedly, rolling his eyes at his brother's womanizing ways. "No, I didn't 'get some'; I didn't know it was unacceptable to go without having sex for the first few dates."

Once again ignoring Hotch's snide comments, Sean smiled smugly and snickered to himself instead. "Regardless, you totally were just thinking of her naked."

_"What -" _

"And if you weren't then, you are now."

Hotch couldn't help it; as he sat in his usual window seat in the BAU jet, he saw, in his mind's eye, Emily in the red blouse and grey skirt she had worn the day before, and he began to wonder how her skin would feel against his as he peeled the layers off of her, how beautiful she would be, bared to his gaze. She would be stunning, no doubt; all porcelain skin and ebony hair and full red lips. Aaron Hotchner wasn't the type of man who chased after women solely for their bodies or looks; no, that was the other Hotchner brother. But he certainly could appreciate a beautiful woman when he came across one. And just as Sean had said, he was now doing just that.

Biting his bottom lip to keep from chuckling at his brother's astuteness, Hotch managed a quick sigh. "You're ridiculous, Sean."

"You know, Aaron, every time you call me that, I remind you that we're related."

"Touché."

Sean grinned from ear to ear. "So?" he asked after a beat. "How was it? The date, I mean. Not your internal, imaginary, oh-man-how-I-wished-it-had-happened sex with a certain gorgeous brunette."

"It was…amazing. Perfect, really," Hotch said quietly. "The food was amazing, and her company was even more so. She's an amazing, intriguing woman."

"That she is," Sean responded, unable to suppress the pride that rose in him as he heard his older brother's words. Finally…he had finally succeeded in his matchmaking attempts.

_Thank God._

Casting a glance over at Emily, who was tying her apron around her slim waist and getting ready to wash her hands in preparation for the meals of their first customers, Sean tossed her a boyish smile before once again responding to Hotch. "You're going to take her out sometime soon, right? Second dates may be difficult, but you're a tough guy," he teased. "Besides, I'm sure she's anxious to see you again…even if you saw each other only yesterday. She told me she had a wonderful time last night," he said offhandedly, still smiling.

Gazing out the small jet window, Hotch realized that he had never been more reluctant to leave town for a case in his life. "I would love to treat her for lunch or dinner again, but Jason, Dave, and I are about to travel to Houston for a case," he said, trying in vain to mask his disappointment. "I hope she'll understand; it's so soon, I know, but I do want her to know that, as soon as I get back, I want to take her out again."

"I'm sure she'll understand. You now know from experience; Emily Prentiss is not like most girls," Sean said wisely.

Hotch's lips curved upward at that. "No, she most certainly is not."

"Anyway, I'll leave you to yourself," Sean said, pulling out a variety of pots and pans from cabinets throughout the kitchen. "You're on the jet now, I presume?"

"I am," Hotch confirmed, idly thumbing the corners of the case file in front of him. "Tell Emily I said hi, will you?"

A brief pause lapsed over the phone, and Hotch was barely able to make out the sound of Emily's voice in the background before Sean was speaking once more. "Actually, you can tell her yourself."

And before Hotch could formulate even a single thought, a sweet _"hello" _came over the line.

Immediately, memories of their perfect kiss came to mind - the feel of her lips molding against his, the sudden onslaught of all-encompassing emotion, the resulting enchanting sparkle in her dark doe eyes - and Hotch had to physically shake his head to clear it. "Hi," he responded brightly. "We were just talking about you." Internally, he rolled his eyes. '_We were just talking about you?' Really, Hotchner? That's all you could think to say?_

She let out a small laugh, however. "So I heard. Anyway..." her voice became a little softer as Sean wandered away not-so-discreetly, "I just wanted to thank you for last night. I had the best time I've had a pathetically long time," she admitted. "I...well, I especially enjoyed having someone like you to talk with. Just over forty-eight hours of knowing you, and you're already the only person I've met who has the same interests and values as me. It's great," she smiled. "And of course," she added after a beat, "the food was wonderful."

"I'm sure your cooking skills are even better than those of the chefs there," Hotch complimented somewhat incoherently, his mind still not working fully. If she already had this sort of effect on him...he didn't want to think about how deep he would fall as their relationship progressed. _If _their relationship - or whatever they could call it at such an early stage - would progress.

He hoped it would. Because like he had told Dave, and like Sean had told him, Emily was one special woman.

"You're too kind," Emily brushed off modestly, not noticing Sean leaning in the doorjamb behind her, listening to their conversation happily. "So...you treated me out to an absolutely amazing dinner; I was hoping I could return the favor. If...that's what you want, of course," she added hurriedly, hoping Hotch didn't think she was moving too fast. Hoping they were on the same page.

And indeed, they were. With one slight inconvenience, however. "I would love that," Hotch said sincerely.

"You would?" Emily allowed herself an indulgent grin as he once again answered in the affirmative. "How about this coming weekend? Maybe...Saturday? There's a great little French place off of Main Street; it's one of my favorites, and I really think you'd like it."

Unfortunately, the 'inconvenience' made itself known as the jet engine started, rumbling loudly in his ears. His voice saddening perceptibly now, Hotch sighed. "Emily, trust me when I say that sounds amazing. I already can't wait to see you again," he revealed, hoping it wasn't too over-the-top. "But...I won't be in town this whole week - maybe more than that, but hopefully less."

"For a case?" Emily asked knowingly, trying her best not to sound disappointed. She understood; she really did.

He was just a_ really_ nice guy.

"For a case," Hotch repeated in affirmation. "I'm on the jet right now; we're heading out to Houston." A beat passed. "I'm sorry. I do wish I could hang back and take you up on that lunch offer."

"I know you do," Emily assured, closing her eyes and smiling a little. "And don't apologize; work is work. You can't help it."

Hotch nodded idly, giving Dave a small wave as he came to sit before him. "Unfortunately." Admittedly, he was a little amazed. This apparently had bled through his voice, because Emily's next question was an even curiouser one.

"You sound...stunned. You okay over there?" she asked, her voice light and amused.

He responded with a quiet chuckle. "I'm perfectly fine. I was just...thinking about how you're the only people who understands the requirements of my job. Most girls don't, especially with modern television shows and crime fiction painting a different picture entirely."

For seemingly the hundredth time in just a few minutes, Emily's lips curved into a pleasant, full smile. "Well, I guess I'm not like most girls," she quipped, recounting what she had overheard Sean saying on the phone.

Smiling as well at the playful tone in her voice, Hotch responded to her just as he had to his brother. "No, you most certainly are not."

As customers began filing in through the door, Emily knew it was time for work; time for their conversation to come to a regretful end. "Stay safe in Houston, alright?"

"I will," he promised, allowing himself to fall into how easy their interaction was. It was almost as if they had known each other for years. "I'll see you soon."

"That you will. Good bye, Aaron."

And with the final click of Emily's phone coming home to rest in its cradle, Hotch barely had time to catch Dave's curiously wide grin before he closed his eyes, pleasant thoughts and Emily's voice still in his ear.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Like it? Love it? Please make sure to leave me a review, no matter how short; it only takes a minute of your time. Quick and painless for you, but wonderful inspiration and motivation for me. :) Thank you in advance! <strong>


	6. Soaked

**Author's Note: This has got to be one of my favorite chapters so far, and I can only pray that you'll feel the same way. Our beloved Hotch and Emily's relationship is progressing! Slowly but surely...it'll be something beautiful, I just know it. ;) As always, thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Sighing to herself, Emily found herself once again pacing the length of her bedroom. She was bored out of her mind and didn't know what to do; her shift at work had just ended and she had just gotten home, so she had no reason to go back to the restaurant. Sean was busy, so she had no one to grab drinks with and talk to. And Hotch…<p>

Well, Hotch was in Houston.

For the hundredth time that day, Emily found herself thinking about him. Part of her was a bit frightened; she had only known him for a week and a half, yet she was already _so_ looking forward to when she would be able to spend time with him again. For a split second, it felt like they were speed dating. Sure, they had only met a couple days ago…but they were so natural together that it felt as if they had known each other for years.

And she loved it.

The other part - the _greater_ part of her - missed him like crazy. Emily respected his job greatly, and she hoped he knew that. Like she had told him the first time they had sat down together, she, too, wanted to study behavioral analysis. For her, it was all a matter of time, location, and opportunity.

But sometimes, it just sucked.

Emily checked her phone for a call or message that didn't exist. She _liked_ talking to him; he was such a gentleman and was just so interesting. But he was busy. _Get that in your brain, Emily,_ she told herself. _He's busy._

She was turning to pace once more when she heard a knock on her door.

~.~.~

Pulling up to the curb outside her brownstone and turning off his engine, Hotch spared a glance at the bouquet of flowers in the seat next to him. He didn't know what kinds were her favorite, but he hoped it didn't matter much; he was hoping his impromptu appearance at her door would come at an opportune time. And based on the soft glow of lights coming from inside her home, he assumed so.

A smile hinted at the corners of his lips as he thought of Emily for seemingly the hundredth time that day. It had been too long since he had last seen her, and he missed her; he really, truly missed her. Because, if he was honest with himself, when he was Emily, he felt like a brand new person. He felt as if he could really be himself, and not conform to the wants and needs of the people around him.

Emily was just that great.

Finally climbing out of the driver's seat of his car, Hotch slowly strode to her door, flowers in hand. He was practically thrumming with excitement. Throughout the entire jet ride back to Quantico, he had been planning their next date; lunch at a cozy little cafe, amiable, intriguing conversation with the most interesting woman he had ever encountered, a movie afterward…

…and maybe, just maybe, she would let him kiss her again.

It was this that Hotch was thinking about when he knocked on her door.

~.~.~

The moment Emily opened the door, a brilliant smile stretched her lips.

"Aaron!"

Unable to help himself, Hotch indulged himself in a happy grin. "Emily," he greeted, laughing quietly as they enveloped each other in a hug. It wasn't clear who had initiated it, but neither of them cared. It felt too right. Too perfect. Hotch cleared his throat as Emily eventually pulled back. "These are for you," he remembered somewhat sheepishly, stretching the flowers out towards her.

Her expression softening, Emily accepted the delicate, pale pink and cream-colored roses with a gracious smile. "Oh...Aaron, they're beautiful."

_So are you_, he wanted to say. But, alas, he didn't, lest she think him too forward. Mentally, he slapped himself. _Damn it, Hotchner, let go of your inhibitions. You have nothing to worry about. _

Emily interrupted his thoughts with a quiet "thank you." And then, without any conscious thought whatsoever, she rose to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Their gazes met. Hotch's briefly eyes twinkled with mirth as a light blush colored Emily's cheeks. "You're welcome," he said, equally as quiet. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel her lips against his from their kiss a week ago...

"Oh, gosh, where are my manners? You're probably exhausted from your case in Texas." Moving aside, she touched her hand to his elbow. "Come in?"

He smiled politely. "Actually...I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me," he said invitingly. "I mean," he immediately added, "I know I just showed up at your door unexpectedly, and you probably have plans, but -"

Emily interrupted him with a breathy little chuckle that only increased his attraction for her. "Aaron, I don't have any plans, and lunch sounds absolutely great."

"Really?"

"Really," she nodded, glancing down at her clothes. "Let me, uh...get changed? You're welcome to come inside, if you'd like," she said again.

This time, Hotch obliged, and for the first time, noticed what she was wearing. A plain, dark blue house shirt was plastered to her skin, accentuating her supple curves and fine figure. And her shorts...good God, her shorts, and the mile-long legs they revealed. Hotch had known that Emily was a beautiful woman, but he had never really taken the time to drink in _every single_ facet of her beauty.

Her body could make even the most sane, stoic men go mad.

Shaking his head to clear it, Hotch closed the door behind him. "Take your time," he finally answered, after realizing he hadn't said a word in much too long. As he watched her disappear into one of the back rooms, Hotch ran a hand through his hair.

It was only their second date, but he already was falling for Emily Prentiss, and falling fast.

~.~.~

"It's such a beautiful day," Emily sighed, falling into step beside Hotch as they exited her brownstone.

"It is," he agreed, reveling in the cool breeze that swept around them. It was a beautiful day; the sun was hidden by a multitude of fluffy clouds, and the blue sky was painted almost periwinkle. "You know, the cafe I was thinking about taking you to is just down the street. I brought my car, but we can walk there, if you'd like."

Emily cocked her head to the side and met his gaze, her eyes sparkling. "I'd love to."

There was just something about Emily that never failed to make Hotch smile...and that was just what he did. "I'm glad," he said gently. "So...how was the catering event you mentioned a couple days ago?" he asked conversationally. "Good, I hope."

_He remembered_, Emily gushed. "It went well," she answered instead, nodding to herself. "It was a beautiful wedding, and we got plenty of compliments on the food. Which is good, because we needed the publicity. And, to be honest, in our business, word of mouth is often more effective than website ads or billboards. It's crazy, but it's true."

"It's understandable," Hotch agreed. "And congratulations."

"Thank you."

"One of these days, I should drop by during my lunch break and try out your cooking," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm running with the theory that your cooking is better than that of my brother, and I'd like to see if I'm right."

"Oh, I don't know," Emily laughed. "Sean's kind of my rival, but I do have to admit that he is quite the good chef."

"So modest," Hotch said, shaking his head.

"I'm not saying there aren't culinary areas in which I'm better than him, however," she added on as an afterthought, causing them both to erupt in comfortable laughter. "Well, that's that. How about your case?" Emily queried curiously.

Together, they rounded the corner of the street and strode on the sidewalk lining a strip of small boutiques and various restaurant venues. "It...went as well as any case could have possibly gone," Hotch said, shrugging. "Granted, the fact that we are ever needed is disheartening in itself," he said as an aside.

"Of course," Emily said understandingly.

"But I love my job," Hotch said, more to himself than to anyone else. "And we apprehended and put away the unsub. Er, unknown -"

"Unknown subject," Emily said, grinning at his surprised expression. "I, uh, may or may not have attended a seminar given by Max Ryan a couple years ago," she revealed.

"Really?" he asked, grinning as well.

She nodded. "I told you I was interested in behavioral analysis," she said matter-of-factly.

Hotch didn't think before he spoke; the words just fell from his lips of their own volition. "You're amazing, Emily."

Stunned, Emily's step faltered for a split second before yet another gorgeous smile stretched across her cherry red lips. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something in response...but nothing came out. So, instead, she discretely slipped her hand in his and bit her bottom lip cutely. "So are you, Aaron." _So are you._

~.~.~

"So, _you _were the one who caught the unsub?" Emily asked, leaning forward intriguedly.

Hotch cracked a small smile at her over his coffee. "Well, not exclusively, no. Dave was the one who pieced it all together and deduced a possible location -"

"But you were the one who managed to slip in and negotiate with the unsub to let the hostages go and drop his gun," Emily finished, shaking her head in awe. "That's incredible."

His gaze dropped down to his food in mild embarrassment. "Yeah, well...thank you. I guess I don't see it as so glamorous anymore, now that I'm used to the rhythm of the job and what it requires. But I'm glad you're so interested in the field. I don't know why, but I have this nagging suspicion that you'd be an amazing agent."

This time, Emily blushed. "You have no idea what high praise that is for me," she said quietly. "Thank you; I can only hope you're right."

They were further engaging in enjoyable conversation when something caught Emily's attention from the corner of her eye.

"Was that...lightning?"

Sure enough, when both she and Hotch turned to peer out the cafe's large windows, they saw that it was raining.

Hotch bit back his groan. "It is," he said flatly. "And I was just about to ask you if you wanted to go see a movie with me."

Emily managed to tear her gaze away from the sudden torrential downpour outside. "We could still go, despite the rain," she said.

"Yeah, but the thing is, the theater is too far from here; we'd have to walk back to my car - in the rain, mind you - and then drive down the highway. I just...don't want you to get sick," Hotch said quickly, his gentlemanliness once again making a sweet appearance. "Do you think we could stay here and wait it out? Or would that take too long?" he mused.

"Hmmm..." Emily gazed up at the sky through the fogging window. "You know what?" she asked after a beat of silence, an idea suddenly coming to mind. "What's a little rain? We don't know how long it's going to last; I'm having a great time here with you, don't get me wrong, but if we leave the cafe now and run back to my brownstone, we could always pop in a movie there, instead of going down to the theater. What do you say?"

A slow smile made its way across Hotch's lips. "I say...you're a genius."

Emily laughed a little, then stood, pushing her chair in. "Then let's head out."

~.~.~

Squealing as her clothes immediately became soaked to the skin, Emily let out a jubilant laugh as Hotch grabbed her hand and took off down the sidewalk. It was _pouring_, but Emily loved it, and Hotch had to admit...so did he. Especially with his current company. He shot her a smile when she squeezed his hand in order to prevent herself from slipping on the wet concrete. "You okay?"

Her hair matted down to her forehead, Emily grinned. "I've never been better."

They reached Emily's brownstone in a record speed, managing not to fall even once - which was quite the feat. Hotch was reaching for Emily's key in order to open her door, when she stopped him and did something totally unexpected; but ultimately incredible.

She kissed him.

Any and all inhibitions out the window for good, Emily fisted a hand into Hotch's jacket and pulled him in for a kiss, both gentle and fiery at the exact same time. It wasn't at all like their first kiss, but neither could choose which one they liked better. Rain still cascading down their faces, their lips met in an impassioned dance that succeeded in leaving them both breathless.

Reluctantly, Emily pulled back, just the slightest bit dizzy. She mustered up a dazed grin, then laughed at the stunned expression on his face. "I've always wanted to do that; to kiss someone in the rain," she explained, still holding on to the lapel of his jacket.

Hotch breathed out a chuckle, then moved just an inch closer. "Would you believe me if I said, so have I?" And without waiting for her answer, he kissed her once more, capturing her lips with his and holding her close to keep her warm. Tentatively, his tongue brushed over her cupid's bow in a silent question of entry - which she gladly granted him. They were panting hard, their breath coming out in short puffs. It was quite the experience, kissing in the rain. Quite the _amazing_ experience.

Breaking apart for the sole need of oxygen, Hotch had to blink a couple times before he could actually focus on the beautiful woman standing before him. "Wow," he said, his laughing eyes meeting hers.

"Yeah," was all she could say in response. Finally taking out her keys from her purse, she opened her front door and motioned inside. "Come on in," she beckoned. "Make yourself at home."

And for the second time that day, Hotch did just that.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Was that sweet enough for you? I sure hope so. :) Please leave me a review telling me what you thought; I <em>love<em> hearing from you, and I appreciate and treasure every single review I get. No account needed! ****


	7. Pucker Up

**Author's Note: Nothing much to say, except that I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's full of fluff and is completely sweet; as is the rest of this story, I hope! Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to read. I sincerely appreciate it! :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Nice place."<p>

Emily smirked a little as he took the time to observe his surroundings, careful not to drip water onto the floor. "You profiling me, Hotchner?" she asked amusedly, her tone flirty, light.

"Of course not." Emily answered him with a skeptical silence. "Oh, _okay_, maybe a little," Hotch teased, shooting her an innocent enough wink.

"'A little', huh? Well, okay, go ahead; what does my home tell you about me?" she asked, genuinely interested as their gazes met.

Hotch took it all in; the eggplant, tan, white, and black color scheme of the main room, the spotless kitchen, the scattering of books here and there… "You like order," he said eventually, his fingers trailing across a well-worn throw blanket on a love seat in the room's far corner, nearest to the kitchen. "The colors you choose to express yourself by - at least, furniture and decor-wise - are relatively toned down; you're down to earth, kind, calm. You're comfortable here; in the kitchen, especially." Then, he tossed her a handsome grin, pushing all behavioral seriousness aside. "You're incredibly beautiful and amazing company for rainy days - or any day, really. You're kind of…perfect, Emily."

Emily bit back her smile, mirth and something even more profound visibly shining in her eyes. "You got all that from two rooms full of junk? I'm impressed."

"Junk?" He picked up a nearby book and thumbed through it. "I would hardly call _Mother Night_ junk."

Emily physically could not restrain her gasp. "You like Vonnegut?"

Hotch looked at her intently, then placed the book back down. "Who doesn't?"

Slowly, Emily shook her head in awe. "Stop being so amazing." _Don't stop, actually. I love it._

Hotch laughed at that. "Whatever." It took a good minute before he realized that Emily was trembling. "You might want to get into dry clothes before you get sick."

"Of course, of course." She was heading towards her bedroom for fresh clothes when she remembered her manners. "What about you?" Her eyes narrowed at his handsome - but _soaked_ - figure. "You're probably freezing. I don't have extra pants for you, but shirt-wise, it's your lucky day, because I happen to think that loose men's shirts are much more comfortable to sleep in than tight lacy tank tops," Emily rambled in explanation. She blushed a little. "Though that was probably more than you wanted to hear," she tacked on, embarrassed. _Geez, Prentiss. Pull yourself together._

His eyes crinkled at the corners. _Good God, she's cute_. "No, no, I love hearing your little explanations; don't worry about it."

His reassuring smile momentarily disarmed her; wiped her mind blank. "So, uh…you want to borrow one?"

"That would be great," he answered kindly. "Please."

It took Emily less than a minute before she was back, a clean, plain navy shirt _and_ a dry towel in hand. "I hope this is enough."

"It's more than enough," Hotch amended, his eyes bright. "Thank you."

Just like that, he leaned in for a kiss.

"Mmmm," Emily sighed against his lips, unsure if she had ever felt so…_happy_. "Don't mention it." She shot a fleeting glance over at her bedroom. "I'll be right back, okay?"

He tucked a damp strand of her hair behind her ear. "Okay. Hurry back."

Emily couldn't help it; she grinned. "You don't have to tell me twice."

~.~.~

She was 'hurrying back' when the sight before her stopped her in her tracks. Unbeknownst to Hotch, she watched from the doorway of her bedroom as he quickly rid himself of his wet shirt. He hadn't wanted to search her brownstone for an empty room or another bathroom in which he could change clothes; he didn't want to invade her privacy like that. That being said, he did not want to wait until Emily was out of her bathroom, either; she had been correct, he was _freezing!_

So, unsure of what else to do, he moved to a corner of the room and discretely slipped into the shirt she had provided him, unaware of the show he was putting on for his hostess.

And what a show it was. Emily knew Hotch looked devilishly handsome in a suit; that much was obvious. But sans suit…she couldn't bring herself to look away. His flat, toned stomach, the flexing muscles in his upper arms, the chiseled build of his shoulders…

It was all just too much.

So much, in fact, that Emily didn't realize that Hotch was looking right back at her, wearing a small, almost _smug_ smile.

"Like what you see?" he joked, his expression softening as her cheeks flushed crimson.

_Yes, very much so. _"Well, that's embarrassing," she said, laughing to herself as she purposefully ignored his question.

She had to play at least a _little_ hard to get, didn't she?

"Embarrassing? Not at all," Hotch brushed off, still smiling. Slowly, he made his way over to her, subtly reveling in the lithe, gorgeous vision she was providing him. Blinking a couple times to clear his head, he nodded over to her TV. "What movie did you want to watch?"

_A movie. Right. _"Whatever you want to watch, really." She strode over to her rack of VHS tapes and pulled a couple off the shelf. "I'm game for pretty much anything."

"I was about to say the same thing," Hotch confessed, his eyes following her across the room as she turned on the television and plopped down on a large, pillow covered couch. "Your place, your choice."

"You sure about that? What if I choose some really cheesy, girly chick flick?" She shot him an inviting glance, and beckoned him over to join her with a crook of her fingers. Starstruck, he had no choice but to comply.

"Then we'll watch a really cheesy, girly chick flick." A beat passed as he sat beside her, and carefully slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Though, to be honest, you don't seem like the chick flick type."

Emily laughed at that. "That's because I'm not. I'm a sucker for action, mystery, drama...those types of genres." She held up three tapes: _Saving Private Ryan, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, _and _Les Misérables__. _"Pick one," she said, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"What if I want to watch more than one?" he countered playfully.

"Then you're just going to have to stay a little longer," Emily said simply, shooting him a beautiful wink.

Hotch grinned; full-on grinned. "I can do that." And then, he snatched _Saving Private Ryan_ from her grasp and put it in her VHS player. "I've been wanting to watch this for a while; people at work kept telling me they liked it. Is it any good?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to watch it to find out, won't you?"

Again, he sneaked in a kiss. "Spoilsport."

~.~.~

They had tried to keep their attention on the movie; they really tried their hardest.

Thirty-five minutes in, however, both Emily and Hotch were locked at the lips, panting and sighing and whispering nonsensical things to each other.

"You are...such a good...kisser," Hotch managed, taking her bottom lip hostage between his teeth. He stayed there for a while longer, teasing her, before he let go and once again covered her mouth with his. Their tongues tangled together, swept away in a dance that only lovers could perfect.

Emily smiled against his skin, a breathy laugh spilling forth. "You think so?" she asked, moving her lips to the side of his mouth.

"Mm-hmm." Emily could feel his voice rumbling through his chest as he spoke. "I could...kiss you all day."

"I think you should," Emily countered playfully, pulling away just barely in order to look at him and give him yet another flirtatious smile.

"That's my plan." Unable to stand being without her lips for more than a split second, Hotch took her hands in his and pulled her back to him. This time, however, their lips did not meet; his heartbeat thundering in his ears, Hotch tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips to the base of Emily's neck, reveling in the moan he elicited from her now swollen lips.

_"God,"_ she breathed, twining her fingers in his hair and holding him there as he sucked on the ultra-sensitive skin. "That feels amazing."

"You _taste_ amazing," he mumbled, the sweetness of her skin only augmenting his attraction and - could it be? - desire for her. He knew he would leave a mark on her pale, perfect skin; and when Emily, in turn, began to kiss the underside of his jaw and then his neck as well, he knew she would leave a mark as well.

But he couldn't care less.

They were continuing their teenage make-out session when Emily's doorbell rang. Unable to help herself, Emily cursed quietly. "I completely forgot we ordered takeout," she said, laughing just a bit.

"So did I," Hotch confessed, still holding her close to him. His hands were resting comfortably on her hips, his thumbs idly rubbing her sides through the thin white cotton of her shirt. "I was kind of _very_distracted," he teased, leaving a hot kiss against her lips.

"Mmmm...me, too."

Again, the doorbell rang.

"I guess I should get up and answer the door," Emily huffed, pushing herself up and out of the couch. "Wouldn't want to leave the delivery boy out in the rain, would we?"

Hotch had other ideas, however. Reaching forward, he caught her wrist and gently pulled her back to the seat. "I'll get it," he said, shooting her a wink.

"No, Aaron, I don't want you to -"

"It's not a big deal," he interrupted, laughing contentedly as he pulled out his wallet.

"But you already paid for lunch," she said, pouting. "And the gorgeous flowers you gave me."

"So?" He grinned, and started walking backwards to her front door. "You can't stop me," he teased.

Finally, after one last kiss, Emily relented. "Fine, fine. If you _have_ to be a gentleman, I guess I can't object," she said, feigning exasperation. She nodded over at the television. "Want me to pause the movie?"

Hotch threw his head back and laughed. "Because we're actually watching it, right?" he asked sarcastically, his darkened eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and lust.

Emily's laughter, too, joined his and filled the room. "Good point."

~.~.~

After filling up on Chinese food for dinner, Hotch and Emily decided to actually make an effort to watch _Saving Private Ryan._ It was quite the difficult task; each of them was still too distracted by the other.

Especially for Emily.

"I could practically quote the movie from beginning to end," she said, taking a sip of her ice cold beer and fighting back a yawn. She cradled the glass with utmost ease, her fingers dancing along the thin-necked bottle. "What?" she asked, when Hotch looked at her funnily. "I liked the book."

He chuckled warmly, his arm once again draped around her shoulders as she set the bottle down and leaned against his side. She smelled good; like vanilla and bitter orange. It wasn't a combination he had expected, but it was definitely one that he liked.

Every once and a while, Hotch would make a comment that would make Emily laugh, or she would quote the dialogue at the same time as the actors. They were comfortable, happy, relaxed. It had been a long day for both of them, but a good one, and as Emily shot him a subdued-looking smile, Hotch knew that there was no other way he would prefer to end his day. They eventually fell into a peaceful silence, their full attention now on the characters before them. It was at the climax of the movie...

...but when Hotch turned to ask Emily a question, he came to a beautiful realization.

She was asleep.

He had noticed it early on; she had looked tired, worn out from a long day at work perhaps. If he was honest with himself, he, too, was fatigued. But as he continued to gaze at her sleeping form, he couldn't help but admire her delicate beauty. Even in the darkness that had blanketed her main room, Hotch could make out the gentle blush that seemed to always color her cheeks. Her lips were parted slightly, her hair was mussed, her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.

All in all, Hotch had never felt luckier.

"Emily," he whispered, lowering the volume of the movie so that she could hear him. He touched her shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Emily," he repeated, "wake up."

She made an endearing little noise...but did not wake.

"Sweetheart," he tried again, the endearment slipping past unconsciously. "Wake up."

But again, she didn't.

Hotch couldn't help it; he yawned into the back of his hand. Glancing out her windows, he watched as rain continued falling down. With a final kiss to Emily's temple and one more attempt to pull her from her exhausted slumber, Hotch turned back to the movie, his vision blurring slightly as he yawned once more. He didn't even remember the storyline anymore, so tired and distracted was he. He watched for a while longer, before leaning his head back against one of the pillows decorating the couch.

_I'll just close my eyes for one minute,_ he told himself. _One minute, and then I'll see if Emily is awake._

And at that, he, too, fell fast asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thoughts? Did you enjoy the rest of their little in-house date? I sure hope so. :) <strong>If you have the time, please leave a review! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day!<strong>****

******Also, reviewer #100 **********will get a oneshot written for the prompt of their choice! Thank you so much!****************


	8. Bon Appétit!

**Author's Note: This is my favorite chapter thus far, _especially_ because of what it builds up to. I'm pretty sure one of the main reasons I started writing KTC is because of all the culinary research I would have to do. The Cooking Channel is my friend, and that much will be evident in this chapter; if you get hungry, I will readily take the blame! :) Anyway, thank you so much for reading; as always, it is very much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>When Emily woke, it was to a strange noise coming from her VHS player and to a shooting pain in her neck. Briefly, she thought, <em>That's what you get for sleeping on the couch, <em>before she realized…

…she had slept on her couch.

Why?

She was blinking the sleep from her eyes when she remembered. Houston. Flowers. Rain. Tom Hanks and World War II.

A gorgeous man changing into dry clothes in the middle of her main room.

Kiss after glorious kiss after glorious kiss from said man.

_Aaron._

Her head snapping up sharply, she stole a glance beside her, knowing just what - who - she would see.

There, somehow handsome even in sleep, was Hotch.

Emily's expression softened as she continued to gaze at him; all rumpled and restful. She knew she should have felt even the slightest bit appalled that he had stayed the night without her knowledge…but she didn't. Not one bit. She was contemplating why she felt that way when one single hoarse word reached her ears.

_"Shit."_

Pushing herself up into a suitable seating position, Emily smirked a little. "Good morning to you, too."

Hotch ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I can't believe I fell asleep," he groaned. "I told myself I would close my eyes for only a minute…and I didn't want to wake _you_ up. It was still raining, and you looked so peaceful; I didn't want to disturb that." He shook his head. "God, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she echoed, moving over to the sofa he was occupying. She smiled, arching a curious eyebrow. "Sorry for what?"

He nodded over to the digital time flashing above her VHS player. "You're already late to work," he pointed out.

"So are you," Emily replied simply. "It's no biggie; I can always blackmail Sean into letting me off easy on this one anyway," she said as an aside, causing Hotch to erupt in laughter. "So, don't worry too much about it. Besides," she took her bottom lip in between her teeth adorably, "I really enjoyed last night."

Hotch's lips curved into a smile similar to hers; small and oh so sweet. "So did I," he said quietly, gazing into her eyes. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_." Emily breathed a tiny laugh in protest as he moved in for a kiss, however. "Mm-mm," she declined. "I don't think you'd appreciate my morning breath," she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

But Hotch simply chuckled. "You know, I bet I can deal with it just this once," he countered.

And just like that, their lips met in an age-old embrace.

~.~.~

"Oh, don't give me that look."

Sean smirked at Emily, then waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Look? What look? Em, I have no idea what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course you don't. As if you're not about to get out that monstrous phone of yours and call your brother," she said astutely.

"Now why would I do that?" Sean was outright grinning now. "I think you need to get to work."

Emily snorted. "Yes, sir."

The moment she turned away and was out of earshot, Sean dialed Hotch's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Did you -"

"No, Sean. I didn't 'get some'," Hotch interrupted, biting back his laughter.

Sean huffed impatiently. "You had no idea what my question was going to be."

There was a pause. "But that was it, wasn't it?"

"…yes." This time, it was Sean's turn to roll his eyes. "You're no fun, Aaron. In more ways than one."

"Stop it, I'm blushing," Hotch deadpanned.

'Hey, buddy, you're lucky I'm a nice person; if it weren't for the fact that Emily's birthday is in less than a week, I would have had to reprimand her for being more than an hour late to work. And it would have been _all your fault._"

Hotch had stopped listening to the end of his brother's teasing retort, however; only one thought was now on his mind. "Emily's birthday is in less than a week?" he echoed, his mind racing. _What do I get her? What would she like? What do I do? Where do I take her?_

"Why, yes, it is. I'm ashamed, Aaron; you didn't know when your girlfriend's birthday is? What kind of boyfriend are you?"

"Hey, in my defense, neither one of us has ever brought it up in conversation, so why _would_ I know?"

"You've been out on what, four, five dates?" Sean asked. "What else do you talk about?"

Hotch shook his head. "We've been out on two dates, Sean. Only two."

Sean blinked, momentarily stunned. "Really?" he asked. "Only two? I could've sworn you two have…I mean, you act like you've…known each other for years. Never mind," he finished lamely.

"I know what you mean," Hotch said, stepping out of the elevator and into the bullpen. "I feel that same way every day I see her."

Sean opened his mouth to say something more, but was quickly interrupted by Emily. "Hey, gossip girl. Shouldn't you be getting back to work? I think you need to," she mocked, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Hotch threw his head back in uproarious laughter when he heard Emily's voice over the line. "Listen to the lady, Sean," Hotch advised.

Sean scoffed. "You two are awful. I hate you both."

"Love you, too, gossip girl."

~.~.~

"So…a little birdie tells me that it's your birthday tomorrow."

Leaning against her kitchen counter, Emily smiled into the phone. "That little birdie is correct," she said softly, absentmindedly playing with a strand of her hair.

"I got you a gift."

She groaned softly. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Hotch cracked a small smile of his own. "Afraid?" he questioned.

"You're just such a sweet guy; I don't _need_ all the attention you shower me in," she said, her smile obvious in her tone of voice. "Your company is more than enough."

Hotch clucked. "Not for me, it's not," he countered cutely. "I want to give you a gift on your birthday, and Valentine's day, and Christmas. I want to take you out to dinner so you can have a good time. I want -"

"Oh, please don't tell me you made reservations for dinner," Emily said suddenly, her eyes widening slightly.

"I…was planning to," he said slowly, only slightly confused. "Why do you ask? Any particular place you want to go to?"

Emily shook her head, despite the fact that he could not see her; she was alone in her brownstone. "No, I…I actually was thinking of asking you if you just wanted to stay in for the night, instead of going out," she said in return, a certain unidentifiably breathless quality to her voice that had Hotch infinitely more intrigued. "I could cook you dinner," she offered, her expression bright. "You'd finally get to taste a sample of my cooking." Hotch was silent. "What do you say, Aaron?"

He bit his bottom lip in serious contemplation. "You have…_no _idea how appealing your offer sounds," he said, anxious to see her once more. "_But_, I do very much want to take you to dinner," he said. "So, you can see my dilemma."

Emily pouted playfully. "Why are you so insistent?" she teased.

Hotch chuckled to himself. "Because I want to be able to take you out to a nice restaurant and show the world just how lucky I am to be in the company of a gorgeous woman like you," he answered smoothly, without any hesitation at all.

She blushed profusely. "Oh my God, Aaron, _seriously. _Stop it! I've blushed more in the couple weeks that I've known you than in my entire life," she laughed.

"I'm only telling the truth," he replied. "So? What'll it be, Emily?"

"Hmmm…" Emily licked her lips idly. "How about…how about you take me out to dinner tomorrow night, _and_ you come over for dinner tonight? My treat," she grinned.

"And when you say 'my treat', you mean -"

"I'll be the one wearing the chef hat," she winked, wishing he was already there with her.

Sinking into a chair in the main room of his apartment, Hotch smiled and let his eyes fall shut. "Now that's an offer I can't turn down."

"I'll see you around…oh, I don't know. Seven?"

"You will," he promised. "And Emily?"

"Yes?"

"I can't wait."

~.~.~

"Something smells amazing."

_You do_, Emily wanted to say, as she pulled him in for a welcome kiss. And he did; like mild citrus and spices. "That would be the chili-rubbed steak," she said against his lips, smiling at his quiet little moan. "I wasn't sure to make that or a grilled flank with shallot and red wine sauce, but I figured that a spinach and grapefruit salad - with ginger lime vinaigrette, mind you - would better go with the chili-rubbed steak. And based on your reaction, I assume I made the right choice?"

Hotch nodded, his shoulders shaking with contained laughter. "I haven't even had a bite of dinner yet, but I can already taste the food. You're amazing," he grinned.

"Mm-mm, you're the amazing one."

"Ah, you see, but it's _your _birthday tomorrow, not mine. And _you_ cooked for _me _when you had no reason to. That just makes you all the more special and all the more amazing." He leaned in for yet another kiss. "That being said, I'm starving."

Emily laughed. "I'm glad. Let's eat, shall we?"

"Please." He allowed her to take his hand in hers and lead him to her small, cozy dining room. "Would you like to open your present now, or later?"

Breaking away for a second to bring out the food, she tossed him a pretty glance over her shoulder. "After dinner, maybe. Though you should definitely give me a hint as to what it is," Emily teased.

Hotch's gaze followed her as she placed a bowl of fresh green salad before him. "A hint, huh? Well...it's red. And it's smooth," he replied vaguely, smiling at her confused expression.

"Smooth? Interesting. But kudos for knowing that my favorite color is red," she said gleefully, moving back to the kitchen to get the steak.

"We'll call it an educated guess," he said humbly, setting the table so as not to seem unhelpful. Together, they placed the steak on two plates, distributed the salad, then poured each other a glass of white wine.

Emily smiled, then nodded to the food. "Bon appétit." Hotch said nothing, only cut a sizable portion of steak with his fork and knife and brought it to his mouth. A split second later, Emily's smile morphed into a full-on grin at his pleased moan. "You like it?"

He nodded as he chewed, millions of flavors exploding on his tongue. "That's amazing," he praised, meeting her gaze from across the table. "The chili really brings out every other flavor in the meat; but it's not too spicy or overpowering. It's just perfect." Hotch licked his lips then took another bite of the succulent meat, savoring the taste.

She laughed quietly. "Mission accomplished, then." Bringing her glass to her lips, she took a tiny sip of wine and then dug into her dinner, her heart swelling with pride with every bite.

"And this salad..." Hotch had a contemplative look on his face as he tried to determine the taste of the dressing. "What did you say the vinaigrette was again?"

"Ginger-lime," she answered, taking a forkful of salad herself. "I was thinking of a chili-lime vinaigrette as a possible substitute, but I didn't want to have _too_ much chili in the dinner; I wasn't sure if you would like it or not."

"Well, I'll tell you this," Hotch said, his dark eyes warm. "No matter what courses you make, what spices you include, or what flavors you experiment with, you're one incredible cook."

Fighting back her blush, Emily downcast her gaze and inspected the tasteful arrangement of food on her plate. "That's high praise; thank you."

"No, no. Thank _you_."

~.~.~

"That was easily the best dinner I have ever had."

Emily grinned, then rose to take his emptied dishes from in front of him. She balanced the plates, glasses, and silverware with ease. "I'm glad to hear it," she replied smoothly, making her way over to her shining silver sink. She didn't realize he was coming up behind her until he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. She gasped a little, then chuckled and eventually leaned back against his chest. "Yes?"

"So, Chef Prentiss..." he craned his neck so he could kiss her jaw, "are you ready to open your gift now?"

"Mmmm, that's a good question," she said, reaching out to turn on the water and run it over the dishes. Emily turned around in his embrace, their lips dangerously close. "I did say after dinner...but maybe I was including dessert in there, too." She shot him an effortlessly flirtatious glance. "What do _you_ think? Do you want dessert first?"

Hotch's eyes darkened slightly; Emily noticed. "Depends on what's for dessert." _Did she mean..._

She glanced behind them, where her refrigerator was situated. "Well, I was planning on it being a surprise," she teased, "but if you really want to know..." Emily tried to move out of his embrace, but Hotch only pulled her closer to him. "If you really want to know, you're going to have to let me go, Aaron," she said, smiling mischievously.

"I don't think I can do that," he admitted. And then, he covered her mouth with his in a searing kiss.

Forgetting all about the dishes she had been planning to watch, Emily managed to turn the sink off. In a split second, her arms were circled snugly around his neck, and the kiss quickly escalated into something more. Lips fused together, chests heaving, eyes shut in blissful pleasure, the two of them broke apart for oxygen for only a split second...and then, they were back at it again. Slowly, Hotch trailed his tongue along Emily's bottom lip, silently pleading for entrance which she gladly - and eagerly - granted him. Soon, they were engaging in a frenzied dance for dominance; and Hotch wasn't about to give up.

Without much thought, and without any protest from Emily, Hotch's hands found themselves creeping under Emily's silky black blouse. He didn't wander up too far; only enough so that he could caress her porcelain smooth skin. And God, she felt wonderful, all soft and pliant and warm beneath his touch. She keened a little into his mouth when he nipped at her bottom lip; and before he knew it, he had her pressed up against the cold refrigerator surface.

Finally, Emily pulled away, stars dancing before her eyes. His hands were still beneath her shirt; one of her legs was wrapped tightly around his hip; her hands were tangled in his hair. And only one thought was running through her mind.

She wanted him.

Emily shot Hotch a dangerously beautiful smile that had him lusting her even harder than before. She brought her lips to his ear, then breathed out an ecstatic sigh. "Want to take this somewhere else, Hotchner?"

His lust-darkened eyes met hers. Without a second's hesitation, he lifted her so that both her legs were now anchored around his waist, and so that she was now completely in his arms. "Like where?" he teased.

"Oh, I don't know..." She dropped a quick kiss to his parted lips. "My bedroom, maybe?" she countered saucily.

Slowly, Hotch's lips curved into a rakishly salacious smile. "I was hoping you'd say that."

And without another word spoken between them, he whisked Emily from the kitchen and strode purposefully down the hall. He didn't have to ask her where her bedroom was; he didn't even think he could have asked if he had needed to. Because now, with her in his arms, he couldn't formulate a single coherent sentence. Only one thought was running through his mind as well.

He wanted her.

Badly.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Well? What do you think? I'd sure love to know! I<strong>f you have the time, please leave me a review; no account needed! Please stay tuned for the next chapter. I promise it'll live up to your expectations. ;)<strong>****


	9. A Very Sweet Treat

**Author's Note: Without further ado...the chapter we've all been waiting for! Also (though I'm sure you all have guessed this already), this chapter is rated M. Thank you so much for reading, and I sure do hope you enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p><em>"Oh. Aaron."<em>

Hotch smiled against the base of Emily's throat as he heard the air whoosh out of her lungs at his ministrations. It took all of his might to not throw her down on the bed and take her right then and there, but he was a gentleman through and through; he knew what it meant to be restrained. Emily squirming beneath him was making it quite hard, though.

_She's making something else quite hard, too, _his devilish conscience chimed in - in a voice that sounded startlingly like Sean's.

Pushing all thoughts away and focusing instead on the gorgeous woman still in his arms, Hotch gently laid Emily on the bed, his dark eyes hungry as they took in the sinful curves and swells of her body. Her black satin blouse was already on the floor; he couldn't remember whether he had stripped her of it, or if she had impatiently done so, but he _really_ didn't care. Letting his lips fall from hers to the edge of her sheer black bra, he left a trail of scorching hot kisses along what parts of her generous cleavage he could reach.

"Aaron?" Hotch heard Emily ask sultrily, her voice husky and endearingly quiet.

"Hmmm?" he returned incoherently, humming as he dipped his tongue into the valley between her breasts. Based on Emily's little keening moan, he gathered that she was enjoying it. "Yes, Emily?"

She twined her fingers into his thick hair impatiently, and pulled his face up to hers. "Hurry the fuck up," she breathed, smiling still.

Hotch couldn't help it; he treated her to a deep, hearty laugh. "Someone's got a dirty mouth," he teased, his hands going to the front of her jeans in order to undo the fastening there. "I like it."

Emily bit her bottom lip seductively, then soothed it with a draw of her tongue. "Cursing like a sailor isn't the only thing I can do with my mouth, you know," she replied smoothly, shooting him a wink. "I think you'll find that my talents aren't limited to the kitchen."

"Really?" Hotch asked, his voice coming out in a growl now. "And…what sort of talents might those be?"

"Get me naked and maybe I'll let you find out. But hurry, before I go insane," she moaned.

Wordlessly, he complied. Finally pulling the form-fitting, faded jeans down her long, long legs, Hotch let out a moan of his own as he caught sight of her simple - almost virginally so - black lace panties. "Good God, Emily," he panted, practically disorientated with lust. "I don't know if I told you this earlier, but you looked fucking amazing in these jeans."

"That's why I wore them," Emily said, giggling.

"But now, without them…" Hotch was sure his heart had stopped beating. "I don't even know what to say."

"So don't say anything," she replied, ridding him of his shirt. Her hands moved from the planes of his fit chest to tug at the buckle of his corded leather belt. "Don't say anything; just make love to me," she whispered in his ear.

Hotch's eyes rolled back in his head as Emily took his earlobe hostage between her teeth. Just as she was getting comfortable, however, Hotch rolled them so that she was on top. In a flash, he had undone the clasp of her bra, allowing her perfectly-sized breasts to spill forth. They really were perfect; not too big, not too small. Just perfect for his hands, as he learned when he began to knead them skillfully. He watched in desirous awe as her nipples drew into dusky little peaks, just begging to be played with.

So play with them he did.

He didn't know when his pants managed to join the rest of their clothes on the floor, but he was sure glad they did. Skin against skin, he peppered Emily's flawless skin with kiss after kiss, determined to have her screaming by the end of the night. Emily, on the other hand, wasn't resting idly. Just as Hotch had his plans, she had hers as well, plans she enacted just as Hotch was toying with the waistband of her panties. He was slowly drawing them down her when her hand slipped beneath his boxers.

_"Fuck,"_ Hotch bit out as Emily's tiny hand encircled him and began to pump him gently. Her hand was cool and soft; his already rock-hard erection was warm and velvet smooth.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with a dirty mouth," Emily laughed, running her knuckles against his shaft at a quicker pace than before.

"Oh, you have no idea," Hotch rasped. He let Emily indulge herself for a minute longer; but after those sixty seconds had passed, he had her flat on her back. Fisting a hand in the damp lace of her panties, he desperately sought her gaze. "You're sure about this?"

Just that one question made a smile curve her lips. She could visibly see that he was reaching the point of no return; but like he had said - and demonstrated - earlier, he was a gentleman through and through. Never before had a man put her needs before his. It was a wonderful experience; and now that Emily was experiencing it with Hotch, she never wanted to let him go. She craned her neck to give him an impassioned, yet ultimately sweet kiss. Then…she nodded. "I'm sure," she said quietly, her eyes sparkling with a medley of emotions.

Hotch's expression softened at her kiss. As the final barrier between them was lost, his hold on the swells of her hips tightened pleasurably. Their gazes were focused on one another when he poised above her, his heart thudding madly in his chest.

In one perfect, steamy stroke, they were joined together in the most intimate of ways possible.

Emily's head fell back against the pillows. The pleasure was almost too much to handle; it had been a while since she had felt so filled…so completed. Yet, surprisingly, she felt no pain. And she couldn't, not when Hotch danced his fingers along the sides of her arms and held her as close to him as possible.

"You okay?" he murmured, his lips slightly parted as he drank her in. "I didn't hurt you?"

She smiled up at him, and gave him a placating kiss to his jaw. "I've never felt better in my life. Make love to me, Aaron," Emily repeated, her doe eyes wide with long-suppressed emotion.

And that was just what he did.

Nerve endings lit on fire as he began to move within her. Emily clutched at his shoulders greedily, her legs tangling in her cream colored sheets as he thrusted deep into her extremely willing body. It was just like she had imagined – and hoped – their first time would be. Despite the obvious strain Hotch was exerting in order to keep himself in check, he kept their rhythm deliciously slow; almost reverently so.

"So beautiful," Hotch sighed, watching Emily's face tighten and contort in ecstasy as her pussy fluttered around him. She couldn't help it; her skin shivered beneath his hands at the tenderness in his voice. She prided herself in her independence and prowess – in many things, for that matter –, but every time their similarly dark-eyed gazes met, she was rendered helpless. To any other man, that would have been due invitation to let loose and gleefully take the reins. But just as Emily Prentiss wasn't like most women, Aaron Hotchner wasn't like most men.

Hotch smiled a little as the torturously sweet drive of his cock into her tight heat earned him a lusty cry against his mouth. "I can't even begin to tell you how good you feel."

Emily looked up at him dazedly. "Neither can I," she moaned out, her eyes falling shut as his hand slipped between their bodies to toy with her engorged clit. Gradually, his thrusts became faster. The smell of sex and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and within a second, Emily could feel the coil of tension tightening deep in her belly _much_ too soon. _"Aaron_…oh, fuck, I'm close," she bit out, canting her hips forward, her search for pleasure never-ending.

That was all the warning Hotch needed. Spurred onward by Emily's cries for more ("more, please Aaron, give me more"), he maneuvered so that Emily's legs were folded up against his chest. The change in position – along with Hotch's needy lips sucking hard on a rucked nipple, along with Hotch's thumb continuing to rub at her clit, along with the endless pistoning of Hotch's hips – was the final straw. At that very moment, Emily was _there_. Sobbing quietly in his ear, she was thrown headfirst over that much coveted precipice. There was no turning back; and as Hotch's thrusting became frantic and his kisses became greedier, Emily knew that she didn't _want _to turn back.

They were just too good together, in more ways than one.

Still trembling with aftershocks of her first orgasm, Emily outright screamed in blinding ecstasy as Hotch pulled out of her, only to slam back in and draw out a second powerful release from her.

Hotch roared as she came apart in his arms. Not a minute passed before he emptied himself into her, his head dizzy with sated desire.

"_Emily!"_

The brunette gasped wildly, physically unable to recover from the magnitude of their joined release. Blanketed by a hard male body, Emily buried her face in his neck, breathing in his unforgettable cologne.

It was at least five minutes before either Hotch or Emily was able to remember their name – much less formulate coherent thoughts.

His breathing finally steady, Hotch tenderly ran his fingers through Emily's hair and shot her an effortlessly sexy smile. If her insides hadn't already been melted, they were now; much to both of their delight.

"_Wow."_

Emily laughed, then met Hotch's lips in a kiss. "Tell me about it. _Best birthday present ever,"_ she gushed.

Hotch's heart swelled in a mixture of contentment and pride. "I'm glad," he hummed, idly running his fingers down her bare spine as she moved to rest against his chest. "And speaking of birthday presents…" He made to move off the bed in search of the gift he had bought for her.

Emily, however, had other plans. Her hand circled his wrist and slowly, she drew him back to her; back to bed. "That can wait; my birthday is _tomorrow_, remember?" She smiled dazzlingly. "Besides…I'm not done with you yet, Hotchner."

A slow, almost dangerous grin curved Hotch's lips. "Good. Because I'm not done with you, either."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Well? I sure hope you all liked that; there'll be more where that came from, no worries! ;)<strong>

**Please drop me a line and tell me how I'm doing! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, I love and appreciate every single review I get!**


	10. The Only Exception

**Author's Note: I cannot thank you all enough for the outpouring of feedback for the previous chapter. Y'all are amazing! Just for that, the beginning part of this chapter is (slightly!) rated M as well; not for anything too graphic, but I'll let your imaginations fill in the blanks. ;) As always, thank you so much for reading! I sure hope you enjoy. **

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Emily woke to the exhilarating feel of Hotch's lips on her breasts. She giggled a little as his tongue flirted out to play with a nipple, then let out a contented sigh as she raked her fingers through his hair. "Good morning," she drawled, her voice husky from disuse.<p>

Hotch grinned naughtily, before moving into a sitting position and pulling Emily up with him. He watched amusedly as she held the sheet tightly to her chest. "'Morning," he murmured in response, still kissing her supple skin. "Did you sleep well?"

She stretched out her body like a cat, then moved so that she was lying fully on top of him. "I did," she said coyly. "As a matter of a fact, I had this really amazing dream that I had the best sex of my life with some devilishly handsome man named Aaron Hotchner…you might know him," she teased.

"No, I don't think I do," Hotch returned, his lips now resting against her collarbone and sucking lightly. "Tell me about him. "

"Well…" she danced her fingers up and down his bare chest. "He's sexy as hell, sweet, chivalrous, funny, completely badass…" Her lips found the corner of his mouth. "And he's a _beast_ in bed." She kissed him hard. "Sound familiar?"

He growled against her lips, his hands moving to her sides. "Vaguely. Though I bet I could add another description to that list."

"Go for it." Her voice was breathy, seductive.

"Aaron Hotchner is also the _luckiest_ man alive." He gazed deep into her eyes, his heart flipping as her sultry smile morphed into one gentler. With one last kiss, he returned her smile then made to move off the bed.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Hotch chuckled quietly. "Babe, I'm thirsty." The endearment slipped out of its own volition; neither of them minded. "I was going to get a glass of water and maybe start a pot of coffee."

"Now?" Emily pouted. "You're always so eager to get out of bed," she accused teasingly.

"I am _not_," Hotch insisted. He nodded over to the alarm clock on her bedside table. "It's almost eight; I don't want you to be late again, not because of me."

"Sean won't care," Emily argued. "He's a big boy; he can take care of the restaurant without me. And as for you…" Slowly, the sheet covering her chest pooled around her waist. She shot him a vixen-like smile. "Surely you could take a day off, just this once." She licked her lips, noticing victoriously as his eyes intently followed her tongue's path. _"Please?"_ she purred. "For me, Aaron?"

He took one step closer, his eyes black as night. "Well…I guess I could make an exception; just this once."

Emily crooked her finger at him, beckoning him forward. "Besides…I still have yet to give you a certain special treat."

Hotch laid back on the bed, dark desire coursing through his body as he watched Emily crawl towards him. "And that would be?"

"Oh, I think you know."

"Maybe I need a hint."

Keeping her eyes on him, Emily lowered her lips to his once again hard-as-steel erection. She licked him from base to tip, humming delightedly as Hotch groaned loudly and jerked forward uncontrollably.

She released him with a 'pop'. A sinful twinkle danced in her eyes. "Was that a good enough hint?"

~.~.~

"Close your eyes."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Emily asked, climbing out of the car and leaning against it. "People might _stare_," she whispered dramatically, biting back her laughter.

"Then let them stare. You've put this off for long enough," Hotch chided playfully. _"Now close your eyes."_

"Yes, sir," she replied cheekily. But nonetheless, she obeyed.

Carefully, Hotch pulled her birthday gift from his pocket. He didn't care that they were in the middle of the restaurant's parking lot; he didn't care that he could practically _feel_ Sean watching them. All he cared about was how Emily would react.

Slowly, he placed the necklace around her neck, its cool pendant resting at the base of her throat.

"You can open your eyes."

Once again, Emily did as she was told; though, this time, she gasped in surprise as well. "Oh, Aaron…"

"I thought you'd like it," he explained softly, watching as she ran her fingers over the large stone, tracing its curves and carvings.

"It _is_ smooth," Emily mused, her smile sweet and slightly awed. "And red…"

"Red jade," Hotch supplied. "I was window shopping the other day when I saw it. I immediately thought of you."

"What does it mean?"

"It's the Chinese character for independence," Hotch said, gazing at her intently. "I, uh, thought it was fitting; you're a creative, expressive, free-spirited, and strong-willed woman. You're unique in the best of ways, and proud of it. Beautifully unique, just like red jade. Do you…" he bit his lip, "do you like it?"

Emily looked at him, her eyes soft and sparkling. "I _love_ it," she corrected. Rising on her tiptoes, she let her lips flirt with his. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"Don't mention it. And…I believe I owe you dinner tonight?" Hotch asked, smiling.

"If you absolutely insist…"

"I do."

"Then who am I to say no?" Smiling as well, Emily took Hotch's hand, and together, they walked into the restaurant. For the middle of the day, it wasn't terribly bust; only comfortably so.

Almost immediately, they were approached by Sean, who was smiling his mischievous smile. "Good of you to drop by, Emily," he teased.

"Hey now," Emily warned playfully. "I don't need your sarcasm, Sean."

The younger Hotchner raised his arms in defeat. "I'm kidding, of course. Now come here." He pulled her into a bear hug. "Happy birthday, you."

She indulged him with a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home…_celebrating?_" He shot a pathetically obvious wink over to Hotch, who snorted at his brother's behavior.

"That's for later," Emily brushed off coyly, glancing back at Hotch. "For now, I just wanted to show Aaron around."

"Go right on ahead," Sean said, speaking, this time, to Hotch. "Though…" he moved so that he could whisper into Hotch's ear without Emily hearing, "when you get a chance, you are telling me everything. Do you understand me?"

Hotch laughed. "Since when did you become such a gossip-mongering old woman?"

Sean huffed. _"Aaron…"_

"What more do you have to know other than the fact that it was amazing and that _she_ was amazing?" Hotch paused. "And how did you even know that we –"

The look on Sean's face was one that clearly said, _I know everything._

Hotch rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. I'll call you later."

~.~.~

"We've just begun expanding to other cities," Emily explained. "New York, Miami, Austin, Fairfield…it's exciting."

"I can imagine. You always look so…passionate when you're in the kitchen," Hotch said, still holding her hand as they weaved through the back of the restaurant.

"You've noticed that?" He nodded. "I guess…when I cook, I feel at home." She laughed a little. "Is that weird?"

"Not at all," Hotch assured. "You like cooking; you enjoy it, and it obviously means a lot to you."

"It does," Emily agreed, her voice quieter now. "I mean, I obviously want to be able to travel around the world like I used to when I was younger, and I'd like to get a degree in something other than culinary arts and psychology. Like…neuroscience, or forensics, or linguistics…or behavioral science, in general. Something I'd be able to apply in my dream job."

"Of course." Then, an idea struck. "Well, one of these days, when you're free, I…could always take you on a tour of the BAU. If you'd like to, that is."

Emily looked up at him gleefully. "Really? You would?"

"Definitely." _I'd do anything for you, Emily._

She bit her lip cutely, then nodded. "I'd like that. Very much."

Smiling once more, Hotch snuck in one more kiss. "Then it's a date."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong><strong>Reviews are love. Please tell me what you think! <strong>There's nothing I love more than hearing from you guys, so please don't be shy. <strong>No account needed!******


	11. Truffles, Coffee, and a Little Cream

**Author's Note: I think it has been decided that I have unknowingly made Hotch into a sex fiend, lol. You'll understand why in the beginning part of this chapter; but that being said, I'll make sure not to deviate _too much_ from the actual plot line. Hopefully y'all won't mind. ;) Anyway, thank you, as always, for reading! I sure hope you enjoy...and yes, the beginning part of this chapter has a slightly mature rating. You're welcome!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Holy hell. I'm one lucky man if I get to wake up to this sight every morning."<p>

There, standing before him, was Emily, wearing only her panties and one of his dress shirts. Only two buttons held the two sides of fabric together; and once she was sure she had Hotch's attention, she leaned over just enough for him to see the shapely globes of her ass.

Emily giggled. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, no." Hotch came up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. "But now that I _am_ awake…something smells heavenly. And dear God, you look _incredible_." A rush of male pride filled his veins.

"Even though I stole your shirt with no plans of giving it back?" Her eyes were twinkling with mischief.

"Even though you stole my shirt. In fact..." he gave her another once-over, "keep it."

"No, Aaron -"

"You look much better in it than I ever could." He smiled as she blushed.

She playfully elbowed him in the stomach. "You're just saying that."

"Oh, trust me," his hands, originally resting on her hips, began to creep lower. "I mean it. So, what're you making?"

Emily checked the oven. "Well, since our dinner was so nice last night, I felt especially creative this morning and decided to go for a – _oh!"_ Her eyes fell shut as she felt a pair of fingers push aside her panties and begin to stroke her core. _"Aaron."_

He smirked a little. "You were saying?"

"I – I decided to go for a quiche." She arched her back at his touch. "I hope you're in the mood for spinach and mushroom."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Hotch crooned into her ear. "I'm in the mood for anything you make."

"That's sweet." Emily craned her neck and met his lips in a slow kiss. "Oh, and for the gentleman, I'm brewing a fresh pot of coffee."

Hotch's rhythm increased pace; he was awarded with a passionate gasp as his thumb brushed against her clit. "And for the lady?"

She nodded toward a tall glass of orange juice. "Nothing quite like freshly squeezed orange juice to get you started in the morning."

"Is that right?"

"You bet. And – _Jesus Christ._" Emily grabbed onto the counter to steady herself as the air whooshed out of her lungs. Already, she could feel the familiar tension coiling deep in her belly.

"Now, quiches…they're not too difficult to make, right?" Hotch tried his best to remain nonchalant as he worked to bring Emily to her peak. "As in, I could've helped you make breakfast this morning?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," she panted, her orgasm just a hairsbreadth away. "You seem pretty busy already."

Hotch chuckled; and with one more skilled rub of her clit between his fingers, Emily shivered out of ecstasy and came apart on his fingers.

"_Aaron. Fuckin' hell."_

He growled against her skin. "Have I told you how much I love your dirty mouth?"

Emily leaned back against his chest, then sighed contentedly. "Oh, I know you do," she purred. "And not that I'm objecting, but, uh…" She pulled her quiche from the oven, admiring the hue of the crumbled turkey bacon she had added. Smiling coyly, she poured Hotch a cup of coffee. "What brought this on?"

Hotch gave Emily one last kiss, before shooting her a dangerously handsome wink. "What can I say?" Taking the steaming mug from her hands, he made sure she was watching; and then, he sucked her essence off of his fingers. "I like my coffee with a little cream."

~.~.~

"You never did tell me what you did for Emily's birthday." Sean waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "How the two of you…_celebrated._"

Hotch rolled his eyes. "Look, Sean, I get that Emily and I are your only matchmaking success, but when you ask for every detail of our sex lives, it gets kind of ridiculous."

"I didn't ask about your sex life," Sean said defensively.

"You did yesterday."

"Just tell me how you celebrated, Aaron," the younger Hotchner deadpanned. "Where'd you take her out to eat, what gifts did you get her…things like that."

"Well, Emily made a really amazing steak dinner for –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sean shook his head. "You made _her_ cook on her own birthday?" he asked outrageously. "Aaron, have I not taught you _anything_?"

Hotch's lips twitched at the corners. "Sean," he said, his voice expressing his borderline impatience. "If you'd just let me talk, you'd get the full story. _No_, I did not _make _her cook anything. And this was the day before her birthday, too. I wanted to take her out to dinner that night, but she said no and offered to cook instead; so we could stay in." Even as he said the words, an inexplicable rush filled his body. "Of course, I still wanted to take her out, so we decided we'd go somewhere nice on her actual birthday night. Well…I get to her place and she's made a chili lime steak –"

"Oh my God, steaks are her forte."

"_I know_."

"And I say that with all the jealousy in the world," Sean admitted. At his brother's silence, Sean bit back a groan. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll shut up."

"So we eat dinner," Hotch continued, his mind already back in that happy place. "The steak was the best I'd ever had - no offense -, the salad was equally as good, partially because the vinaigrette she used matched so well, and the wine was perfect. And as we finish, Emily's collecting the dishes to put in the sink…then she mentions dessert. Apparently, she had made white chocolate truffles from scratch, but, uh…we didn't eat them that night. I'll just leave it at that."

Sean's eyes widened. "No, no, no, you are _not_ leaving it at that."

"Oh, you're right, I forgot to tell you what I got her," Hotch teased.

"That's not what I meant," Sean grumbled. "But whatever. Let me guess: you got her roses."

"I did. Red, yellow, and white ones. And a jade necklace which she liked very much." His heart swelled as he saw her dazzling smile in his mind's eye.

Sean managed a grin. "Aaron Hotchner, a romantic? I never would've guessed."

Hotch snorted. "Are you kidding me? I've always been the romantic one. Now, you, on the other hand...'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am' seems to be your motto. What was it Emily called you again? A caricature?"

"Very funny," Sean droned. "I'll have you know that I just recently started seeing someone, thank you very much."

"Oh, really?" Hotch shifted his cell phone to his other ear in order to pull open the glass doors leading to the bullpen. "What does she look like? Blonde? Brunette? Red-head?" A beat passed. "Your hand?"

_"Hey!"_

Hotch barked out a quick laugh. "I'm sorry," he said hastily. "That was uncalled for."

But Sean was actually smiling. "Just for that, you have to tell me more about your night. I would've let you get off easily, because I'm naturally a nice guy, but no -"

"I get off easily enough, thanks." Hotch paused at Sean's uproarious laughter. There was just something about conversations with his younger brother that made him feel - and act - like a teenager again. "But let me put it this way," Hotch said finally, moving on up to his office as he spoke. "I may have finally found someone who truly tests my self-control."

Sean's smile was a proud one. "That good, huh?"

"Not just good," Hotch replied softly. "Perfect." _She's perfect._

"I'm glad."

~.~.~

"So, you thinkin' of spending Christmas with your boyfriend?"

Emily leaned against the back of one of the restaurant's booths as she watched Sean close up for the night. "That depends."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "On?"

"Whether or not my boyfriend's charming brother will be joining us." Emily cocked her head to the side curiously. "Will he?"

Sean smirked as he locked the main entrance and began to walk back to Emily. "As much as I'd love to celebrate with you two lovebirds, I'm going to go up to New York that week, remember? To see the opening of the new restaurant near Madison Square Garden?"

"Oh, that's right. I was even telling Aaron the other day about how well our expansion has been faring," Emily recounted. "In fact, I was contemplating inviting him to the restaurant opening in Richmond, since you and I will be there as honorary chefs."

"Speaking of which, that event is in two weeks, and I still don't know what I should make."

Emily ran a hand through her hair. "Oh, you're right," she groaned. "I have no idea either. I told myself I'd brainstorm last week, but then I got...distracted."

Sean chuckled. "Well, Em, you could always make your famous chili-rubbed steak," he teased. "With some white chocolate truffles on the side, maybe?"

Emily turned away as she felt her cheeks begin to heat. "You heard about that, did you?" she retorted, biting back her laughter.

"I did; I heard nothing but high praise, in fact. I couldn't get him to shut up about it." Sean sobered. "But really, Emily...I know Aaron would love to have you over for the holidays. So, just...give it some thought, okay?"

Their gazes met; and with a small smile tugging at her pretty pink lips, Emily nodded. "I will," she promised. "I definitely will."

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Author's Note: Thoughts? <strong>If you have the time, please leave a review! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day! :) Thank you in advance!<strong>****


	12. A Visitor's Badge and a Mustache

**Author's Note: I have had the most awful writer's block lately, but I love this story too much to put it aside and wait the writer's block out. So now, even though it took me forever, I present to you, without further ado...Aaron Hotchner, the BAU tour guide! :D As always, thank you so much for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"So, this is where you get your coffee in the morning."<p>

Hotch chuckled, his arm wrapped snugly around Emily's waist as they waited next in line. "It is. You want anything?"

She smiled up at him sweetly. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? They make a mean hot chocolate," he offered appetizingly.

"Then, in that case, who am I to turn the offer down?" Emily said jokingly, shooting him a wink.

"Oh, hush, you." He squeezed in a quick kiss, before turning to the barista and placing their order. "You'll like it; I promise."

"I believe you," Emily assured. "Though…" she nodded toward the steaming coffee cup in his hand, "should I feel threatened right now? Is this café my competition?" she teased.

"You're kidding me, right? Nothing can compare to your coffee, Em. You make it just like I like it," he whispered in her ear, his heart warming at her resulting giggle. Grabbing hold of her beverage as the barista placed it on the counter, he reached around her for a small metal shaker. "Nutmeg?"

"Please," Emily nodded. Watching intently as he sprinkled the reddish-brown spice atop her hot chocolate, Emily offered him yet another smile when he handed it back to her. "Thank you," she murmured politely. Once they were both situated and walking out of the cozy café, she discreetly slipped her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "So...you like my visitor's badge?"

Taking a good look at the plastic sleeve that hung from her red blouse, Hotch outright grinned. "I do, very much so. That's one _sexy _picture of you."

"Aaron, my eyes are halfway closed," she deadpanned.

But Hotch simply winked. "Exactly." Their hands still intertwined, he steered her down the hallway toward the silver-hued elevator at front of the building's lobby. Several people were milling about, chattering about a variety of things in low voices. No one spared them a glance as they passed by; but Hotch didn't mind. He knew he had a tendency to overthink things, but as he and Emily made their way across the wide marble floor, he felt as if this day was indicative that Emily was meant to share his routine. He couldn't help but think of a future with her, maybe with her working in the very same building. Or the very same office. Together, they would wake up in the morning, maybe cook breakfast together, maybe even share a car and an everyday commute to work. It was a whole lot of 'maybe's, but she had once told him that she wanted to study behavioral analysis, so it wasn't too big a stretch – was it?

Realizing he had been quiet for much too long, Hotch looked up just in time to see the elevator door closing behind them. It was quiet in the small metal cabin, but only for a second; taking the top off her Styrofoam cup, Emily took a tentative sip of her hot chocolate, then let out a pleased humming sound as flavor exploded on her tongue. "Wow," she praised, nodding to herself as she took one more sip of the delightfully warm beverage. "You were right; this hot chocolate really is good." As sweet as ever, she held the cup out to him. "Want a sip?"

"No, no," he declined cordially, "enjoy it. Besides, I have my own strong, black, and tasteless coffee to enjoy." His tone was joking and light, just as it always was when he was around her. He was always _happy_ when he was around her. "And anyway, we're almost there, and I –"

As he met her gaze, however, his voice trailed away.

Emily's expressive brown eyes widened imperceptibly, and almost immediately, a self-conscious expression made wormed its way beneath her fine features. "What? What is it?"

Biting his lip handsomely, Hotch's lips twitched at the corners. "You, uh…you have a whipped cream mustache."

"A whipped cream m…" Emily flushed slightly as his words sank in. "Huh, looks like I'm a little girl again. I was _always_ the daughter who had a milk mustache after breakfast. My dad never stopped ragging on me about it." Right as she was about to wipe said mustache away, however, Hotch took hold of her hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"Not so fast," he murmured huskily, his eyes shining.

And then, before Emily could even process what he was doing, Hotch had leaned forward and captured her lips in their last kiss of the morning, effectively licking the excess whipped cream clean. Pulling back after a good five, ten seconds – and after the elevator bell dinged, signaling their arrival at the floor of the Bureau -, Hotch smiled at the utterly satisfied expression she was now donning. "You're good," he confirmed.

Ticked pink, Emily just giggled.

~.~.~

"Dave, do you have a minute?"

Rossi looked up from his desk to see Hotch peeping his head through the door. "For you, Aaron? Always," the other man teased. "What can I do you for?"

Glancing outside the office cheerfully, Hotch beckoned Emily in behind him. "There's someone I'd like you to meet," he said to neither of them in particular; or maybe, to both of them. As if they'd been doing this for decades, Emily fell into step beside him, her quietly endearing demeanor immediately piquing Rossi's interest. "Emily Prentiss, meet Agent David Rossi. Dave, this is my girlfriend, Emily."

Almost instantly, Rossi rose to his feet. Stretching out his hand and shaking Emily's firmly, he gave her a kind, almost fatherly smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he greeted, his eyes shining. _Way to go, Aaron_, he thought to himself, his heart swelling with happiness for his friend. Shooting said friend a not-so-secretive wink, Rossi said, "So, _this_ is the 'gorgeous brunette' you won't shut up about."

Hotch's cheeks reddened a little as Emily arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow, but eventually, he just shrugged. "Can you blame me?" he answered smoothly, laughing brightly as Emily smiled and shook her head.

"Absolutely not." Rossi crossed his arms over his chest. "So, Emily, Aaron tells me you're interested in behavioral analysis as well; yet you're a chef?"

Emily's lips curved into a slight smirk. "I know," she indulged. "It's weird, right? I have a lot of different tastes, I guess. I love cooking more than anything; it makes me feel in my element. But I'd _love_ to further my studies in psychology and human behavior. It's something I've been interested in since I was in high school, actually. And well...I work with Aaron's brother -"

"Sean?" Rossi interrupted knowingly, barking out a quick laugh. "He's quite the character, isn't he?"

"Oh, _tell me about it_. Sometimes, I have a hard time remembering that he's not a middle school boy." Emily outright grinned now. "But anyway, I do work with him, and he had always told me stories about his big brother and his big brother's job...and I'm a curious girl." She cocked her head in Hotch's direction. "Go figure."

"Sean used to tell you stories about me?" Hotch repeated, feigning apprehension. "Dear God, I can only imagine."

Emily chuckled. "I'll make sure to tell you some of them sometime," she promised.

"I'm holding you to that."

Rossi watched the brunette couple's seamless interaction with a sort of experienced wisdom. "Well, okay, you two lovebirds. This old man has some work to catch up on. Emily, it's great to finally see you; I see from your badge that Agent Hotchner here is giving you a tour of the Bureau. As his boss, I have to advise you not to distract him _too _much. He has a job to do, after all," he said mock sternly. "_But..._as his best friend," he continued, sincerely this time, "it is my job to tell you that I hope you enjoy your visit. I'm sure you're a bright young lady, and with enough studies and training, I'm sure you could be one hell of an agent. With your determination and passion, you're heading in the right direction. So, go ahead; make yourself at home."

Emily couldn't suppress her beautiful, grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Agent Rossi."

"Please. It's Dave."

~.~.~

"And who might this be, Hotch?"

Hotch and Emily, both hunched over a pile of paperwork on the former's desk, both looked up in surprise. Needless to say, Hotch had not been doing his work; how could he, when right next to him was one of the most gorgeous women on the planet? But, upon hearing the low, familiar voice, he began to wonder if he had been caught. Standing and clearing his throat awkwardly, he placed a hand on the small of Emily's back as she, too, rose to her full height.

Hotch briefly wondered whether or not Emily felt tired of being introduced to so many people; but she, of course, proved him wrong. She never failed with the surprises, after all. "Emily, this is -"

"Max Ryan," she interrupted, her eyes widening slightly - in awe, this time. "Wow, it is _such _an honor to meet you, sir," she said, offering her hand for the older man to shake.

Ryan's face lit up with an intrigued curiosity. "It seems you have the upper hand here, ma'am; you know my name, yet I don't know yours."

"Emily Prentiss," she greeted readily.

"Emily Prentiss..." Ryan's eyes narrowed as he thought. A second later, he asked the question that was on Hotch's mind as well. "Have we met before?"

She took a polite step back towards Hotch, realizing she had fangirled for much too long. "Not exactly, no. I've attended two of your guest lectures; the one you gave at Georgetown on the psychology behind rampage killers like Richard Speck, and the one you gave at the J. Miller Bookstore in promotion of your book on 'the Boise Child Killer'. Which was fascinating, by the way," she rattled off.

Ryan chuckled, then turned to look at Hotch. "Well, Hotch, you've got quite the lovely friend here. I'm impressed with your knowledge, Emily; are you currently studying criminology, or anything like it? One of the behavioral sciences, perhaps?"

"No, sir; at least, not yet," Emily amended. "Although I'd love to, and I hope to do so soon."

"As of now, Emily is a chef and assistant restaurant manager," Hotch supplied in explanation. Emily couldn't help but smile at the tinge of pride she heard in his voice; he was an all-around sweetheart, after all. "And in my humblest opinion, she makes the best food known to man."

Emily playfully elbowed him in the side. "Oh, stop it," she said, her voice adorably hushed.

Just as Rossi had, Max Ryan gazed at the two with a wizened air about him; he'd had his fair share of experiences, both good and bad, so he knew, just from looking at them, just how right they seemed for one another. He had hardly known Emily for more than ten minutes...but he had known Hotch for a heck of a lot longer, and never had he seen the other man smile like he was smiling now.

He was glad.

"Criminology and culinary arts," Ryan mused aloud. "That's really something. Has Hotch told you about our most recent case?"

Emily perked up at the mention. "No, he hasn't. He told me about your previous case, though...the family annihilator in Houston?"

Ryan smirked a little. "I bet he did tell you about that one; after all, he was our shining star in that case, catching the unsub when Rossi was the only other person who had a clue as to where he might be." Hotch shrugged it off modestly, but Ryan simply continued. "Well, if _that_ caught your interest, then our current case definitely will. We're heading out to Philadelphia tomorrow to see what can be done about an unsub the press called 'the Keystone Killer'. If I was honest, I'd say this is one of the most interesting - albeit disturbing and sadistic - unsubs we've ever seen. But that's the job, you know? We hunt those who hunt others," he said almost nonchalantly, and for a second, a cold flash of something like grim detachment manifested in his eyes. It was gone almost immediately, however; so quickly that both Hotch and Emily told themselves that they had surely just imagined it.

"But anyway," Ryan said with a sigh. "If you want to hear more about it, I'm sure Hotch would love to fill you in."

Hotch looked between the two of them. "I -"

But for the second time that day, he was interrupted - by yet another agent of the BAU. "Hey, Max, I just dropped by to talk to Rossi, and he told me to talk to you. What do we know about the last time the Keystone Killer struck? And...oh."

The third man's voice trailed away as he looked pompously over at the unfamiliar woman in their presence.

Hotch had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "Jason, this is Emily Prentiss, my girlfriend. Em, the guy who sometimes forgets his manners is Jason Gideon," Hotch said in means of introduction. Behind him, he heard Ryan snort amusedly.

A full beat passed before Gideon seemed to pick up on the social cues and reached out to shake Emily's hand. "Nice to meet you," he said simply, offering a stiff smile; if you could even call it that. To Emily's untrained eye, _everything_ about him seemed stiff. His back was ramrod straight, his lips were stretched into a thin line, his brow was pinched together almost confusedly. Almost instantly after Emily's hand was out of his, Gideon turned away from her and back to Ryan; his mentor. "So? What do we know?" he repeated.

Ryan glanced at Gideon carefully, then reached for a file on Hotch's desk. "Well, let's see what the files tell us, shall we, Jason?"

As the tension between the two profilers continued mounting, Hotch spared the bullpen one last parting glance. And then, taking Emily's hand in his, Hotch took Ryan's terse, almost sarcastic response as their cue to leave.

~.~.~

"So...you leave for Philly tomorrow?"

Hotch ran his thumb over the arch of Emily's soft hand. "Yeah," he said quietly. The other two agents with whom he shared a desk were gone for the night; for the moment, they were alone in the wide open Bureau foyer. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. We just found out yesterday."

Emily smiled. "Don't apologize. Though, if you _really_ wanted a Philly cheesesteak that badly, you could have just told me," she teased. "I would've made one for you."

He chuckled. "Well, It's a good thing I know that _now_," he said jokingly, stretching out his limbs as he leaned back in his desk chair. "You could've saved me a jet trip tomorrow."

"You're right; I guess I could've," she tossed right back. "Though, since I am awfully selfish, it seems as though you and I are going to have to maximize our time together tonight; you know, to stock up for the next couple days," she said innocently, shooting him a pretty, cherry red pout.

Hotch's dark-eyed gaze met hers. "That sounds like quite the plan, sweetheart," he said, his voice husky.

"Then let's go home," Emily said simply.

They were doing just that when Hotch realized: _Home. Emily called it 'home.'_

His face obscured as he bent to pick up his briefcase, Hotch smiled his most jubilant smile. "Yes...let's go home."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thanks again for reading! <strong>Please...don't forget to review. No matter long or short, or signed or anonymous, I love hearing from you! :)<strong>****


	13. Meaningful Conversations and a Foursome

**Author's Note: Prepare yourself for another food-heavy installment! If you're not hungry now, I guarantee you will be by the end of this chapter. What can I say? The Food Network is my friend. ;) There's also a tiny bit of angst in the beginning...I guess the angst from 'Mockingbird' is bleeding over (oh no!). But anywho, as always, thank you so much for reading! I have the feeling you all will really enjoy this chapter; at least, I hope you will!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Hey there, handsome."<p>

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Hotch didn't look up from what he was writing; rather, he gave a slight smile and leaned back comfortably as Emily's hands kneaded out the kinks in his shoulders. "Hey back, gorgeous."

"You ready for our date tonight?" Pressing her chest up against his back, Emily wrapped her arms so that they circled his front. "I know I am."

"Just give me a minute or two, and we can go, alright?" Hotch said, still unwaveringly focused on the files spread out before him.

"A _whole_ minute?" she pouted playfully. "Aaron, you know I'm impatient..."

_Oh boy, do I, _he thought, the voice of his conscience thick with innuendo.

"Besides," Emily continued, "you've really overworked yourself this past week in Philly."

"I know, I'm just really busy," he said, his pen flying across the endless pages as he filled up the necessary paperwork. _"Really_ busy," he reiterated on a sigh.

"Maybe you could put your work aside for an hour or two to give yourself the opportunity to unwind and have a little fun," Emily suggested, still rubbing his back. "You don't deserve to be forced to take your work home," she said sympathetically.

Hotch briefly wondered if saying, _"I wasn't forced, I _wanted_ to take it home"_ would weird her out, but he wasn't left with much time to decide - or the concentrate, for that matter.

_"Oh,_ I just remembered I have something important to tell you!" Emily exclaimed excitedly. "It involves you, me, and Sean..."

"Em, I _really_ need to work on this right now -"

Unfortunately, she didn't hear him. "Next weekend, Sean and I are heading over to Richmond for a restaurant opening and we're both catering the event as 'honorary' chefs. It's...kind of really a big deal. For both of us, actually. And, well, I'd love it if you came -"

_"Emily_._" _She started at the tone of his voice. "Just...I really need to finish these files as soon as possible. And right now, I _cannot_ focus."

Emily's doe eyes widened. "Oh," she said tinily. "I'm sorry, I'll..." She backed out toward the door. "I'll leave you alone."

Not even a second had passed before Hotch was screaming at himself for being such a douche. "Wait -"

But she was already gone.

Internally slapping himself as hard as possible, Hotch leapt off of the bed and immediately sought out Emily. She was seated in the main room, her teeth worrying away at her bottom lip as she waited obediently in silence. "Hey," he said softly, kneeling beside her. "Emily, baby, I'm so sorry I snapped at you."

Emily simply shook her head sweetly. "I'm sorry for bothering you," she said genuinely. "I didn't want you think that I was one of those women who didn't understand your job or your responsibilities and requirements; though I think I came across that way. But, you know, if you don't want to go to Richmond, that's completely fine with me. I understand perfectly -"

"No, no, no, that has nothing to do with this," he assured gently. "Things have been really tense at the office lately, and I...well, I'll explain to you after dinner. But Emily, I would _love_ to go to Richmond with you."

Her face lit up beautifully. "Really?"

"Of course. It obviously means a lot to you; and I hope you know you mean a lot to me." He smiled, then drew her in for a kiss. "Forgive me?"

Emily blushed a little, then giggled as he nipped at the shell of her ear. "You're too cute to not be forgiven," she said in answer.

"Cute?"

She snorted at his sarcastic tone. "Okay, not 'cute'. How about 'sexy'?"

"That's marginally better." Still smiling, Hotch lightly tickled her side for the sole purpose of hearing her endearing giggle once more. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I believe you and I have a date we need to carry out; don't we?" he teased.

Emily nodded contentedly. "Yes. Yes, we do."

~.~.~

Hotch held her flush against his hard body as her euphoric trembling increased; her panting became louder, her heartbeat thudded quicker, her toes curled, her muscles contracted, and the tension coiled tighter and tighter and _tighter and -_

_"Aaron!"_

Hotch swallowed her gasp and resulting scream of pleasure with wet, greedy lips. His hands fisting in Emily's hair and pulling her even deeper into the kiss, their tongues danced in a flurry of passion as Hotch finally let go, letting out a sated groan in the process. He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Emily stretched out like a cat, with the feral grin to match. Slowly, she slid down his heaving chest determinately, finding the perfect place the rest her head.

It was a good minute or two before either Hotch or Emily could formulate coherent thoughts; but when they could, Hotch took the opportunity to drop a kiss into her hair, still damp from the shower they had shared minutes before. "Talk about amazing," he breathed out reverently.

Emily sighed happily and burrowed further into the blankets he had drawn over their intertwined bodies. "_Mm-hmm._ The Szechuan eggplant stir-fry _was _pretty good, wasn't it?" she teased.

"I wasn't talking about the dinner, Emily," he tossed back, his voice still husky. "I was talking about dessert."

"That, too," Emily said, laughing gleefully at the dark expression that flitted across his handsome features.

It seemed as if the brunette couple was drifting away in to sleep when Emily spoke up once more. "So...you wanted to talk? You said 'after dinner'; I mean, you don't have to, but if it'll ease some of the tension you're housing, I think it'll be worth it." She kissed his chest. "I'm a pretty good listener."

Hotch eased out a tender smile. "I don't doubt it. Just as a warning, I'm...not exactly sure this is the best post-coital conversation starter," he said with a quick laugh, "but if you're really okay with me talking about it..."

She leveled her midnight gaze to his. "Of course I'm okay with it. If I ever pursue the same field and want to be good at the job in the future, I have to be okay with it, right?" she countered logically.

"Well, that doesn't necessarily mean -"

Emily simply placed a finger to his lips. "Talk to me, Aaron."

Hotch looked at her for a minute longer, then rested his head back against the pillows and sighed. "The case in Philly...we've been looking for that specific unsub for a _long _time. You might have heard some of the boys talking about it when you visited; the Keystone Killer. It was originally thought that he had stopped killing in the eighties, which made our team think the case went cold. We moved on. But recent evidence we've acquired had proved us wrong. Long story short, we had reason to believe we had found Kern's - that's his name, Walter Kern - residence. It was on an extremely large plot of land, which made sense, seeing as he would need a place to bury the bodies." His eyes fell closed. "We stormed the house. We had _all_ the evidence to point to him; guns were drawn; and I - I shot him." Almost reluctantly, he peeked to gauge Emily's reaction to his words. She was not the slightest bit judgmental or put off; she was worried _for him_. "Turns out, he was the wrong person. He was one _messed up_ man, and stole Walter Kern's identity after the real Kern adopted a new one and escaped Philadelphia. He was guilty for many things...but not for what we came for. And I killed him -"

Emily couldn't handle it any longer. "Hey," she whispered, her quiet voice housing a surprising presence in the still room. "Stop it," she implored gently, her sweet voice and demeanor soothing his frayed nerves and restless soul. "You said it yourself; he wasn't exactly an innocent person. And while I can't say that you were completely justified in your actions, I know for a fact that you had the best intentions for your team and the protection of the Philadelphia population in hand." Her hands found his. "You're a good, honorable man, Aaron. Keep that in mind."

"I know, I just..." He let out a shuddery sigh. "I've never fatally shot anyone before. It's tough."

"I can only imagine." Slowly, she ran her knuckles over the now-stubbly planes of his cheeks and jaw. It was a profoundly sensitive and heartfelt gesture; for a second, Hotch had the mental image that he and Emily had progressed several years into their relationship. Perhaps they would have meaningful conversations like this one each night. Perhaps he would be granted the opportunity to hold her each night and whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and maybe...maybe even tell her he loved her.

Hotch turned his head so that his lips were pressed against the palm of her soft hand. He chuckled a little to himself, then moved his hands so that they rested on the bared small of her back. "You're incredible, have I told you that?"

"Only a couple hundred times." Emily rubbed his sides slowly. "I know you'll probably still continue to lose sleep over the past week, but...you're not like the men you go after, Aaron." Hotch's breath actually caught in his throat. Already, she was so astute; she had hit the nail on the head, spoken his own feelings aloud when he himself couldn't. If she was this way now, he couldn't wait to see how great an agent she would be on the field, with a couple years of training. "You're not like them at all," she continued. "They kill for the sole purpose of pleasure and inflicting pain on others; you do your job to _protect _others. You did what you had to do. A casualty is a casualty. I _know_ it doesn't make the death any less bad, and no, it doesn't make it any more okay - but there _are_ some people who can look at you non-judgmentally." She winked cutely. "Like me. If you ever feel like talking about it again - or hell, about anything, anything at all -, I'll always be right here."

"You promise?" he teased, his tone light. Nonetheless, his chest tightened as he waited for her response.

"I promise," she vowed. Finally closing her eyes, she reached behind her to turn off the bedside lamp that had been casting dim yellow light over the bedroom walls. "Now...get some sleep."

"I will, so long as I know next week will be better than this one."

~.~.~

It was.

The next week found Hotch, Emily, and Sean in a nice and cozy hotel in Richmond, awaiting the hour of the restaurant opening. Watching shamelessly as Emily dressed and applied makeup which she didn't need one bit, he surprised her by approaching her from behind and blowing a hot gust of air on her neck. She gasped, then shot him a dangerous smile. "Good evening to you, too."

"I _really_ like that outfit," he said lowly, his voice literally sending jolts of pleasurable apprehension down her spine. "It would look great crumpled at the end of my bed."

Emily bit her lip to suppress her laughter. "Since when have you been one for bad pickup lines, huh?"

"I only speak the truth," he countered smartly, wiggling his eyebrows and causing her to laugh once more. Slowly, he ran his hands down her sides, his gun-coarse palms running over the khaki, red, and navy patterned material of her colorblock dress.

"Speaking of outfits, you look quite dashing yourself," Emily complimented, taking her sweet time and appraising him fully, even as he continued his unique way of appraising her. 'Dashing' was a bit of an understatement; in his black dress shirt, suit jacket, and pleated khaki pants, he looked like a model who had just stepped out from a GQ magazine. "I've always thought that you were born to wear suits. They just...look so _good _on you."

"And I've always thought that you're quite possibly the most charming woman I've ever known." Hotch held out his arm for her to take, then guided her out of their hotel room.

"As for charming, where is that little brother of yours?" Emily quipped, glancing down the long, fancily carpeted hallway. "Room...two-thirty-seven?"

"That would be the one," Hotch said with a nod, as they approached that specific door. They didn't even have to knock, however; upon seeing their advance, the younger Hotchner swung his door open and stepped out into the hallway to join them. "Sean, what in the world...?" Staring for a beat, Hotch shook his head as he bit back his laughter.

"I had a bit of a tie mishap, alright? It happens," Sean grumbled, begrudgingly allowing Hotch to fix it for him. "Not everyone's as perfect as you, Aaron."

"It's true," Emily whispered into Hotch's ear, her flirty tone giving him all the more reason to burst out into a smile.

"You better watch yourself, Emily Prentiss, or I just might pull you back into that hotel room of ours and make you forget _all_ about a certain restaurant opening," Hotch said in response, his voice just as quiet as hers had been. Nonetheless, their secretive whispering prompted Sean to roll his eyes.

"Are you lovebirds going to be like this the entire time?" he ribbed, feigning disgust. "Because _good God_. You two are practically oozing sex right now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Sean," Emily said, straightening her posture and rising to her full height. In her heels, she could look both Hotchner men in the eyes. "Sex is the absolute last thing on my mind. _You_ on the other hand..." She clucked disappointedly. "We have a full course meal to cook, for Pete's sake. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Sean blinked. "Wait, _me_? What -"

Hotch just laughed as Emily sauntered off in the direction of the elevators, the tantalizing sway of her hips leaving both men speechless.

~.~.~

"Next, guest chefs from Washington, DC., Emily Prentiss and Sean Hotchner, will be presenting one of their signature dishes that is now on our menu: spaghetti bolognese." The restaurant manager stepped aside to allow Sean to go around and pass out small sample dishes to the crowd that had turned out for the opening.

"This isn't your grandma's spaghetti bolognese," Emily inserted, speaking with an easy command of her audience. "Instead, Sean and I - with the help of the wonderful staff of chefs this restaurant aspires to grow with - have introduced a bit of a unique twist. As you eat, notice the flavors; the familiar ones, like celery, sausage, and black pepper, and the _non_-familiar ones, like pancetta, creole seasoning with minced garlic and cayenne pepper, and just the slightest hint of both nutmeg and cinnamon." She took a minute to proudly observe the pleased expressions on the faces of the food enthusiasts as they ate. "And for our wine enthusiasts here today," she introduced, "we recommend pairing this course with a crisp Sangiovese, a bright and fruity Italian red."

"How long does it take to make a dish like this?" someone asked, their mouth somewhat full.

"It will usually be around three hours, since preparation itself takes half an hour," Sean answered. "This specific batch took two hours and fifty minutes, really."

The restauranteur took another minute to glance around the filled room, making sure to smile kindly at everyone he passed by, before moving to the front of the wide space and speaking once more. "As you all eat, we'll introduce our last two courses of the night. Both are desserts, and since our very own chefs wanted to stick with a citrus theme...well, I'll let you all experience it for yourself," he said, his eyes shining. "Emily?" he beckoned.

Once again, the beautiful brunette was perfectly and comfortably in her element. "For our first dessert option, we have for you today a serving of brandied nectarines with lemon cream. Prepared with lemon liqueur, vanilla extract, egg yolks, heavy cream, and one pint of blackberries, this caramelized dessert is anything but common." Walking from table to table, she distributed out the sweet-smelling fruit, smiling especially widely as she placed on on Hotch's plate. He discreetly caught her hand in his and gave it a soft, encouraging squeeze, before letting her continue on down the paths between booths.

"If you'd rather have something more traditional, however," Sean added, taking his turn with an experienced artistic grace, "our second - and unfortunately, _last _- dessert course is a well-loved recipe of fresh lemon mousse. Of course, the mousse can be paired with nearly anything, but our choice for the night are white chocolate dessert cups, topped with the slightest hint of mint." He watched happily as the makeshift audience seemed to perk up at his description. Following Emily and passing his course out as well, the two chefs smiled.

"Now...bon appétit!"

~.~.~

"You were amazing."

Emily crawled into bed beside him, her dark eyes shining with an almost inexpressible happiness. "Thank you," she said simply. "That means a lot. And I'm really glad you enjoyed the food," she added with a quick laugh.

His arms instinctively wrapped around her middle as she snuggled farther into his warm embrace. "That was quite possibly the most creative collection of food I've ever tasted in my life. I'd have to say my favorite would be the white chocolate dessert cups with the lemon mousse. Now _that_ is something I've got to try to make one of these days."

"Didn't you tell me, when we first met, that you can't cook at all?" Emily reminded teasingly.

"Hey, now, I believe in myself; anything is possible if you just believe, right?" he countered mockingly.

Emily laughed out loud. "Something like that."

"But really...congratulations, Chef Prentiss. Sean and I were talking about it earlier; a restaurant opening is a really big deal." Hotch craned his neck to meet her lips in a slow, lazy goodnight kiss. "I'm happy for you."

"I don't know how many times I'm going to have to say this, but you are much too sweet." Emily dazzled him with one of her prettiest smiles. "Thank you again, Aaron."

"Don't mention it." Just when Emily's eyes fell closed, he moved his lips to her ear. "Think you can stay awake for just a minute longer? I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Of course." Their gazes met. "What's up?" He was silent for a moment. "Is...is it about that case?"

"No, no, this is something completely different. Something _good_. Or at least, I hope it will be. You see, I wanted to bring it up while at dinner, or some place like that, but I didn't want to distract you earlier." Hotch bit his lip, then danced his fingers along the side of her arm in an attempt to calm himself. "I completely understand if you have plans with family or friends or...well, just, on your own. But, if not...Emily, I was wondering if you'd like to spend Christmas with me."

Just for the purpose of teasing him, Emily worked to suppress her jubilant smile. "Oh, Aaron...I'm so sorry," she said. "I do have plans; with my friends Ben and Jerry, that is."

It was a long minute before the words sunk in.

Slowly, a grin spread Hotch's lips. "Emily..." She giggled. "That's not funny." Catching her around the waist, he pinned her beneath him and kissed her senseless, laughing breathlessly as she squirmed restlessly.

"I was just kidding!"

But Hotch wouldn't stop. "Ben and Jerry, huh? Sounds like a _party_."

Emily bit his bottom lip, causing him to stifle a little moan. "I didn't know you were so kinky, Aaron."

_"Kinky? _What?"

"You, me, Ben, and Jerry...I bet we could have a real good time," she said, her voice saucy and adorably sarcastic.

Hotch just rolled his eyes. "Is that a yes or a no?" he droned playfully. But for the second time in just that many days, he found his chest tightening as he anxiously waited for her response.

"Of course it's a yes, you silly man. I'd love to spend Christmas with you; in fact, I can't think of a better person to spend the holidays with." Emily kissed his cheek.

Hotch hid his overjoyed smile by burying his face into her perfumed neck. "Neither can I," he sighed contentedly, his heart warming. "Neither can I."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I sure hope that was sweet enough for y'all. :) Please leave me a review telling me what you thought; I <em>love<em> hearing from you, and I appreciate and treasure every single review I get, no matter the length. No account needed!**


	14. A First Time For Everything

**Author's Note: Okay, so there's more angst in this chapter (surprise, surprise!). But there's also more of Hotch being a sex fiend. With food. Surely that balances things out, right? ;) As always, thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Flipping through his planner, Hotch smirked as his gaze landed on an unfamiliar entry that wasn't in his handwriting. "Hey, Em?" he called out, turning on the bedside lamp when the room became too dark.<p>

"Mm-hmm?"

He chuckled to himself. "Did you really schedule a make-out session for us tomorrow at two?" His dark eyes followed her as she sauntered playfully into the bedroom, her hair still damp from her shower. "I didn't think those type of things needed to be scheduled," he teased lightly, holding his arms out to her as she climbed onto the bed.

Taking the planner into her hands, Emily tossed it on a chair in the far corner. "So what if I did?" she countered, her voice already husky as she rested her forehead against his. "I just _really_ like kissing you."

Slowly, Hotch twined his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp as he gazed deep into her eyes. He was well aware that he was teasing her; but oh, how she loved it. "I believe that," he said in response. "Kissing you is my favorite pastime."

"Then get to it," Emily cracked, her expression bright.

"What's the magic word?" he whispered, his eyes darkening if possible even more as Emily's arms came to wrap around his neck.

Emily bit down on her bottom lip, then slowly soothed it with her tongue. It was something Hotch had seen her do several times before over the two months they had been dating, but it never failed to make his heart race. The simple, habitual action was just inherently sexy; like the woman herself. "If you don't kiss me right this second," she said, her voice low, "I'll never have sex with you ever again."

Needless to say, Hotch's lips were on hers in less than a heartbeat.

The kiss was exhilarating, to say the least. Within seconds, Hotch and Emily were locked at the lips, their hearts pounding in an impassioned synchrony. Emily could hardly hear what Hotch was whispering into her ear over the thudding of her heartbeat, but in that moment, she couldn't have cared less; not when she felt his hands creeping up her shirt and skimming over her now hypersensitized skin.

Hotch couldn't help but breathe out a shaky sigh as Emily pulled out of the kiss, instead latching her lips onto the base of his throat. She had proved more than a number of times just how skilled with her mouth she was, but the pleasurable sensations she invoked were some he could never get used to, no matter how many times she decided to treat him to her own slice of heaven. She sucked on his skin hard, laughing low in her throat as he bit out a curse.

"What? Can't handle me, Aaron?" Emily taunted.

Hotch didn't answer; instead, he whipped off her shirt, a treat of his own in mind. Right when Emily was least expecting it, he latched his mouth onto one of her glorious breasts, taking a nipple hostage between his teeth.

_"Jesus,"_ she gasped.

He grinned. "Nope, still Aaron," he quipped, pulling her back in for yet another mind-blowing kiss.

Emily rolled her eyes playfully, then actually shuddered as she felt Hotch's hands playing at the waistband of her yoga pants, kissing her all the while. "Aaron," she breathed, trying in vain to get his attention, her body thrumming with ecstasy as he hummed against her skin. "Aaron."

"Hmmm?"

She licked her lips, then glanced down at his lap with satisfaction. "I know you're..._excited_," she murmured, palming him through his jeans and smiling as he jerked into her touch, "but I _really_ want to go dancing tonight."

"Dancing?" Hotch echoed dumbly. "But..." His eyes fell to her lips, then rose back up to hers.

"You didn't see that I wrote 'dinner, drinking, and dancing' into your planner for tonight, too?" His silence was her answer. "It could be like our first date all over again," she said appetizingly. "When we danced at that Italian place, I mean. You were more reserved then, but now..."

But Hotch's mind was still somewhere else. "The_ tango_ is a dance," he said pointedly, his lips hunting across her collarbone.

Emily chuckled at his unquenchable desire for her, then raked her fingers through his hair. "That much is true, I guess. But _please_? You'll get to see me in a little black dress and stilettos..." Her voice dropped lower, became more seductive. "I mean, if we went dancing at the bar I'm thinking of, you and I could completely let loose. What do you say, Aaron?" She sweetened the deal by pressing a hard kiss to his lips.

Hotch knew he was bound to cave eventually, but that didn't mean he would stop trying. "We can't go dancing tomorrow?" he practically whined.

She shook her head. "No, tomorrow is an entirely different day." There was a pause, before Emily's brilliant mind thought up the perfect way to get Hotch on the bandwagon. "Aaron...if you come dancing with me tonight, I'll let you do anything you want to me when we get back home." Her tongue played with his. "How 'bout that for a deal?"

Hotch groaned at the thought of Emily, spread out beneath him, completely submissive to his touch. "Anything?" he repeated darkly.

"Absolutely anything."

Hoisting Emily onto his lap, he gave her one last _long_ kiss. "Then you've got yourself a deal, babe."

~.~.~

"I'll have another Jack with lime, please. Actually..." Hotch caught Emily's gaze, then smiled as she nodded, "make that two."

Striding over to him in her killer heels, Emily took his hand in hers and guided him back to the dance floor, their drinks in hand. She didn't even have to tell him to dance with her; within a second, they were gyrating against one another, their bodies molded together in the perfect fit. Hotch had to physically restrain himself to not let his hands wander over her salacious curves; he would put that off until tonight, when he would make her scream with just a single touch.

Emily, not privy to her boyfriend's thoughts at the moment, simply ground back against him harder, laughing as he growled into her ear.

"The way you're dancing should be illegal," he bit out, finishing off his Jack and placing it on a nearby table.

"Tell me why," she urged, laying her head back on his shoulder and twining her hands with his.

"You're so hot," Hotch said, his tone almost dangerous. "So damn hot, Emily, you're swallowing me whole."

"Mm-mm, swallowing you whole is what I'll be doing tonight," she quipped, turning so that their gazes could meet. Their sultry back and forth, coupled with an innumerable amount of searing kisses, continued for several minutes longer, before the song changed for seemingly the hundredth time, and Emily pulled away. She smiled as Hotch caught her around the wrist, telling her to stay with solely his eyes, but nonetheless, she maneuvered out of his gentle grip. "I need to use the ladies' room; you'll be okay on your own for a minute or two?" she asked, laughing to herself.

"I think I can take care of myself," he answered indulgently. "But hurry back."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

After more than five minutes had passed and Emily wasn't back from the restroom, however, Hotch was beginning to question that. Craning his neck to peer over the crowd of dancing people, Hotch glanced in the direction Emily has disappeared to. From his spot on the edge of the dance floor, he could barely make out the doors to the restrooms, with the fluorescent lighting above them. It was enough lighting to distinguish between the faces of the people leaning against the far walls...but not enough lighting to see Emily.

_Where was she?_

He was contemplating this and moving toward the restrooms when he heard it; tense, raised voices in his proximity, one of which sounded a lot like Emily's. His heart pounding for an entirely different reason than it had been before, Hotch took off immediately, pushing unapologetically through the masses and stopping abruptly at the sight before him.

"Get your hands off me!" he heard Emily yell, her voice low and her eyes dangerous as she struggled to push the other man off of her.

The man, a skeevy, dirty-looking scumbag, simply shot her a leering grin, apparently oblivious to anyone around them. "Why do you keep fighting? You and I could have real fun tonight, sweet cheeks."

"You heard the woman. Get your hands off of her and let her go."

Emily's head shot up and she whirled around to meet Hotch's gaze. Visibly relaxing at his presence, she was elbowing out of the man's caged arms when he spoke once more. "What's it to you, dipshit?" he replied, and Hotch wanted nothing more than to wipe that disgusting smirk off his face. "Mind your own business so me and sweet cheeks here can have some fun."

Hotch stepped forward, trying his best - but to no avail, unfortunately - to step between the scumbag and Emily. Pushing at the man's chest, he said, "I'm going to give you one last chance to step away. _Let go of her._"

He grinned, displaying uneven yellow teeth. "_Oh_, I see," he responded, pushing back against Hotch even harder. "She your little bitch? Is that it?"

That was the last straw. Hotch had tried to reason his way through the situation and keep his temper in check, but the jackass groping Emily just wouldn't listen. Wrapping one arm around Emily and pulling her to him tightly, Hotch used his other hand to punch the scumbag square in the face. He fell back against the wall, spitting out blood.

Her eyes wide, Emily gasped out in shock. "Aaron!"

But Hotch didn't listen. Standing over the man now on the floor, he said, "When a lady says no, she means _no_." Then, taking Emily's hand in his, he gave her a comforting glance. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get out of here."

~.~.~

The car ride back home was virtually silent. Emily stared straight before her as Hotch drove, her mind racing. It had been quite the crazy night, that was for sure. So many things she hadn't been expecting had happened...and while she loved that Hotch had been there for her, she couldn't help but worry. Finally, Emily found that she couldn't keep her thoughts to herself for much longer; instead, she sighed gently, and rested a hand on Hotch's thigh. The action had Hotch slowing his driving speed and turning to her curiously.

"Aaron," she began softly, her voice startlingly loud in the car's interior. "I get that you're a gentleman, and I appreciate it more than anything, but..." Even in the darkness the night provided, she was able to glance down and see his slightly swelling hand. "But you could've _broken_ your hand, and I -"

Hotch, too, let out a frustrated sigh. "What was I supposed to do, Emily? Standby and watch as he touched you with his grimy hands and made you uncomfortable?"

She pursed her lips. "No, of course not. But I -"

"Emily..."

"- I just didn't want you to get hurt."

He managed a small smile, just for her. Whether or not it met his eyes, Emily didn't see. "And I didn't want _you_ to get hurt, either."

Shaking her head, Emily took his swollen hand in both of hers, gently massaging it as he drove. Slowly, her fingers kneaded his flesh, putting just enough pressure on his hurting bones to make him feel _good_, not in pain. "I'm a big girl, Aaron; I can take care of myself."

"Clearly, you -" But Hotch stopped mid-sentence. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

Emily peered out the window, gazing up at the sky. "I love that you make sure chivalry isn't dead. But there's a reason you chose that specific pendant for my birthday; the one that said _independence._"

"I was raised in the South; I did the only thing I knew how. I just don't appreciate feeling like the bad guy here."

"And you're not! I just..." Emily's voice trailed away. "Sorry. Forget I ever brought it up."

Hotch's heart fell. "No, _I'm_ sorry, Emily. Don't apologize. You couldn't have known that something like this would happen tonight. You just wanted a fun night of dancing, and that was taken away by some no good piece of shit in the back of the bar."

"Why are _you _apologizing?" she countered, well aware that they both sounded bipolar at the moment - switching back and forth from standpoint to standpoint. "All you did was take care of me, and make sure I was okay. You're a sweet, sweet man, and sometimes I feel as if I take that for granted. I mean, God only knows what would have happened had you not been there...yet all I can do is argue with you and -"

Pulling up to the red light near his apartment, Hotch shut her up with a kiss, one she eagerly returned. "I think we're both being a little ridiculous tonight," Hotch murmured against her sweet lips. "I'm sorry and you're sorry, yet neither of us have anything to be sorry for." They shared a brief laugh. "Maybe you're right; let's just forget about this, and enjoy the rest of our night. How 'bout that?"

Emily smiled, then nodded. "Did we just...have our first fight?" she asked, her tone back to its usual light and flirty self.

"I believe we did." He smiled as well. "I guess there's a first time for everything, right? Besides, you know what they say; being able to resolve conflict only makes relationships stronger."

She kissed him again, then fell quiet as they pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. They were walking towards his door when Emily spoke once more. "You know...my offer still stands, by the way."

Emily didn't have to look at him to know that Hotch's eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. "Your offer? What offer?" But then, he remembered: _Aaron...if you come dancing with me tonight, I'll let you do anything you want to me when we get back home._

Oh.

_Oh._

~.~.~

"What've you got there?"

Hotch almost tripped over his own feet as he gazed at her. In the split second he had left to grab something from his refrigerator, she had stripped herself of all scraps of clothing except for her heels, and was laid out spread-eagle on his bed. She shot him a wicked smile when he failed to muster up an answer.

"Well?"

"I, uh..." He cleared his throat. "You know the other day, when we were in Richmond?" Emily didn't answer, only blew him a kiss. "Well, I really liked the presentation, especially the lemon mousse dessert course. So, I, uh...asked Sean for the recipe."

Emily's face lit up as she finally discerned what was in the glass bowl in Hotch's hands. "You actually made me dessert?"

"I sure did. There's a first time for everything, right?" he repeated, flashing back to their conversation in the car. Climbing into bed beside her and shielding her body with his, Hotch stated the bowl on the bedside table - but not before dipping a finger into the sugary treat and holding it out to Emily. "Go ahead, baby; tell me how it tastes."

Making sure his gaze was locked onto hers, Emily slowly ran her tongue along the length of his finger, sucking gently on the tip. "Mmmm...I'm impressed, Aaron," she praised breathily. "That tastes _wonderful_."

"Does it? Let me try." And without further fanfare, Hotch dabbed some of the mousse onto Emily's now erect nipples. Reveling in her gasp, he bent his head and laved one of the rosy buds - then the other - with his tongue. "Mmmm...delicious," he practically purred. "And I'm not talking about the mousse."

Dizzy with desire, Emily took his head in her hands. "Come here," she whispered lustfully, tugging him closer.

And then, for the hundredth time that day, their lips met in a needy, sultry embrace.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I know - I'm evil. But you love me, right? :) <strong>

******Anywho, thanks so much for reading! I appreciate it, and would sincerely love it if you could leave me a review;** it only takes a minute of your time. Quick and painless for you, but priceless inspiration and motivation for me. :) Thank you in advance!********


	15. Two Weeks In Advance

**Author's Note: Boy, it's been a while since I last updated, hasn't it? No worries, though...NYC gave me quite a few ideas on where to take this story as we continue further and further down the road. (I'm trying not to be too angsty, I promise.) As always, thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope you enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Emily actually let out a contented purr as Hotch continued hunting across her body with his addictive lips. They had been at it for an hour and a half at least, but in the fashion of true lovers, they still couldn't get enough of each other; they didn't think they could – or would – <em>ever<em> get enough of each other, frankly.

That didn't stop Emily from making her hundredth seductively snide comment of the night. "Well, Aaron, if you're done painting me with mousse and licking me clean, I'd _love_ to be able to take a shower," she said pointedly.

Hotch shot her an effortlessly handsome glance, cocking one eyebrow as well. "You're sure about that?" he asked huskily, his fingers intertwined with hers.

"Absolutely, one hundred percent sure," Emily confirmed. "I'm all _sticky_," she said, taking her bottom lip in between her teeth in the exact way she knew he loved so much.

"So you want to get wet?" he countered, his voice low and full of dark promise – just as it always was when he was around her.

Emily smirked, then spared him one last quick kiss. "I don't need to _get_ wet; I already _am_ wet," she corrected, winking. And then, with a sassy shrug of her shoulders, she pushed up off the bed and ambled over to the bedroom. Of course, it came as no surprise to her when she realized Hotch was tailing behind her like a lovestruck puppy.

Hotch simply retook hold of her hand. "I need a shower, too, you know. As I recall, you weren't the only one slathered head to toe in delicious lemon dessert." Distinct mental images of Emily came to mind, with her on her hands and knees, pinning his arms down to the mattress with hers as she bit and licked and sucked and –

"Oh, I remember." Her beautiful laughter filled the echoey space that was the bathroom. "But I'm serious, Aaron. I _really_ need a shower."

He smiled again, more serious and sober this time. "I know. So do I. We could share; you know, save some water and all that," he said, watching her intently with his expressive, warm eyes.

"You're just saying that because you want to lather me with soap suds and watch water cascade down my body," Emily teased, padding around the tile floor barefoot as she gathered new towels and a new pair of panties. There was no point in wearing any more clothes than that; the night was still young.

"Those might be added perks. But I…" Hotch shook his head, then chuckled a little to himself. "This is going to sound really weird, and I apologize in advance. But ever since that night on our second date, when it was raining and you leaned in for a kiss... I can't get the adorable image of you with your hair matted to your head off of my mind. You…" He gradually fell silent as he reached forward to fist his fingers in her always silky hair.

Slowly, a sweet smile spread across Emily's lips. "Let me guess," she continued for him. "You want to…help me wash my hair?" It wasn't so much a question for him as it was her asking for a favor and offering him a chance to indulge in a fashion that wasn't as carnal or base as the rest of their interactions seemed to be.

Hotch rested his cheek against hers as he reverently breathed in her unique perfume. "If you'd let me."

"I'd love it if you did." And at that, she opened the etched glass shower door, stepped inside, and held a hand out for him, inviting him in.

Without a second's hesitation, he accepted. The water was already perfectly warm and heavenly against their skin. Able to feel his eyes on her back, Emily made a show of upturning her face toward the rainfall shower head she loved so much. A contented sigh slipped past her lips as, a mere second later, Hotch's hands were roaming her body once again. But there was something different in his touch; while his hands did eventually find on the shapely curves of her ass, he kept to his earlier promise of no funny business and instead just rested his hands on her porcelain smooth skin. Her arms, on the other hand, moved to form around his waist as they stood chest to chest in the shower, the action shockingly intimate - and just as beautiful.

Hotch couldn't help it; he turned her head so that their lips would meet in a deep kiss. "You're the most special woman I've ever met in my life," he whispered against her skin. "Do you know that?"

His unbelievably sweet declaration was so unexpected and so contrasting to their previous conversation topics that Emily was caught off guard, her breath catching in the back of her throat as her eyes burned. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something that probably wouldn't even come close to capturing how he made her feel...but before she could even try to respond, he had squeezed a dollop of her fragrant shampoo into his hands and was gently and skillfully massaging her scalp in just the way she needed.

Emily laughed a little as some suds slipped off of his fingers and onto her nose, the delightful sound making Hotch's lips curve into a permanent smile. He wiped the shampoo off, then rested his forehead against hers as she allowed herself to take a turn in washing his short black hair as well. "I can't wait for Christmas," he eventually said, his voice still soft as he filled the tender silence with discussion of his uncontainable excitement.

Emily's quiet laugh morphed into something a bit more full-fledged. "Aaron, there's about a month between now and the twenty-fifth," she pointed out, pouting slightly. "You remind me of little children counting down until the day they get to see what Santa left underneath their trees. It's cute," she said, kissing his nose this time.

"Again with the whole calling me 'cute' thing?" he chided playfully, his expression etched with feigned exasperation. "God, you never learn, do you, Emily?"

She rolled her eyes, but kept a lighthearted tone as well. "Then maybe you ought to be a better teacher, Aaron," she countered. "You ever thought of that?"

"Maybe, maybe not." He dropped his voice an octave. "All I know for sure is that 'a month until the twenty-fifth' is about a month too long for me to handle. It's not about the presents for me...I just want to take you out somewhere," he said vaguely.

"Where?" Now, Emily was, of course, curious beyond belief.

"If I tell you, that would ruin the surprise," Hotch teased, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. At Emily's little whine, he chuckled and moved to lather her wet skin with effervescent soap. "But I'll tell you this: it's somewhere really special to me, and I would love to share it with you."

Emily was successfully smitten. "_This_ is why you're cute, Aaron. You're adorable, chivalrous, _such_ a gentleman...and deep down inside, you're an absolute sweetheart." She laughed at the expression on his face as she continued with her definitively girly praising. "It obviously means so much to you. And, to be quite honest..." Their gazes met as the shower water washed the soap from their bodies. "I can't wait for Christmas, either. To spend it with you is the best thing I can imagine."

~.~.~

Emily's mother had other ideas, however.

Her voice hushed as she slipped out of Hotch's bedroom and onto the small balcony his apartment offered, Emily's eyes were wide and her muscles tensed as she spoke to the Ambassador. "What do you mean we _have_ to be in Russia for Christmas?" she asked, appalled.

Elizabeth Prentiss's voice was calm and collected, just as cool as it always was when she spoke to diplomats from countless countries - and, apparently, her own daughter. "You know just what I mean, Emily. The Gordievsky family has invited us to their mansion for a stretch of time, and it would be rude to not comply. After all, they are completely willing to pay for any transportation and lodging fares we might encounter; though that will be completely unnecessary, because your uncle still owns that bed and breakfast near Moscow."

"But Mother -"

"No buts, Emily. You know just how influential the Gordievsky family is, and just how much we need them to be on our side for your father's upcoming campaign."

"So you and Father can go pay them a visit. Why do I have to tag along?" Emily asked, crossing her arms over her chest and sighing petulantly. _God, she will never understand,_ Emily mourned. _That is, if I can even get a word out before being interrupted by her!_

"They asked about you," Elizabeth answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Em, darling, this is so _important_."

"You _know_ I hate politics," Emily grumbled. There was a heavy pause. "And by 'they', do you mean Mr. and Mrs. Gordievsky, or their son Mikhail?" she asked knowingly.

Emily could practically _hear_ her mother rolling her eyes. "I don't understand why you're so against seeing him again. He's a wonderful man, Emily." She shook her head. "But that is absolutely not the point."

"Yes, it is. Mother, did you ever consider that the reason I don't want to go to Russia with you and Father is that I already had plans for the entire week leading up to Christmas?" Emily revealed, her lips turned down in disappointment. _Please don't make me go. I don't know how I'd tell Aaron that I -_

Her mother's shocked exclamation interrupted her musings and brought her back to the present. "Plans?" she echoed, just as appalled as Emily had first been when she had broken the news. "When do you ever have plans for Christmas?"

Emily glowered at the cars down below her. "No need to sound so surprised, Mother. Believe it or not, but I actually do have a life outside of work."

The Ambassador chose to ignore her daughter's trenchant jab. "And who might these plans be with? Emily, have you neglected to inform me about a new man in your life?"

"That's funny, because it's not like you would care either way." Emily bit her lip as the words came tumbling out. "Sorry, Mom, I...I didn't mean that."

But again, Elizabeth chose to disregard the comment; after all, she hadn't called to argue. "Either way, I care now." She tried her best for a gentle tone. "So?"

Emily rested her elbows against the metal railing of the balcony, failing to realize that Hotch had come up behind her, observing her with a placated smile on his face. "Yes, there's a new man in my life," she said, unable to keep the amused expression from coloring her tone. Regardless if her relationship with her mother wasn't nearly as good as it should have been, at the end of the day, Elizabeth Prentiss was just the same as any other woman - a sucker for gossip.

"And his name is? Or wait, is it that other chef that works with you, the blonde one? What was his name? Shane?"

"Sean," Emily corrected, "and no, it's not him. But, uh..." She laughed a little to herself. "It's his older brother, Aaron. You've never met him, but..."

"But he treats you well?"

"He does. Very well," she smiled. Hotch's heart warmed at that admission. He didn't have to hear both sides of the conversation to understand it; or for his adoration of Emily to grow even more. Emily's heart, on the other hand, was beating anxiously, her veins filled with hopeful anticipation. "So? Do I still have to go to Russia with you?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said without hesitation. Immediately, Emily's hopes were dashed. She had really thought her mother would be more sympathetic...but it wasn't the first time she had been wrong about the Ambassador. "I'm sorry, Emily, but in the end, your father and I need this. And whether you like it or not, your presence has been requested and you _will_ go."

Emily's frustration was building. _Then Father could have called me himself! _she thought angrily. "Last time I checked, Mother, I wasn't a teenager anymore."

"Yes, but last time I checked, I was still your mother. I will see you at the landing strip on the eighteenth, Emily." And just like that, the line went dead.

"Damn it," Emily said under her breath, running a hand through her hair as she dangled the bulky cell phone from her fingers. Sighing for seemingly the hundredth time in quite possibly the shortest span of minutes known to man, Emily spun on her heel to reenter the apartment and seek out Hotch...

...but that was when she realized he was right there with her.

Her breath caught in her throat. _"Oh_. Hey. Uh...how long have you been standing there?"

Hotch gave her a consoling little smile. "Not long." Their gazes met when he pulled her closer, their hands clasped together. "Is there, uh...anything you want to tell me?" he asked, his voice soft. He would never admit it to Emily but he was crushed that he wouldn't be able to spend Christmas Eve or Day with her. He had been looking forward to it for so long, taking her to quite possibly the most special place he had ever been to. He could already picture how stunning she'd look as they'd walk, hand in hand, in the snow, leaving fluffy white footprints behind them. Maybe she would wear that red coat of hers he liked so much. And then, maybe, he would pull her into a kiss and tell her something he had been meaning to say for much too long.

But now she was going to Russia with her parents.

Emily downcast her gaze at his innocent words. "Yeah, I...I'm sorry."

His eyes widened. "No, no, no, don't be sorry," he interjecting, his hands moving to circle her wrists. "It's not your fault," he assured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just wasn't sure whether or not you wanted to talk about it, work something out."

"My parents apparently _need_ me to go to Russia with them; politics, and what not. I hate it. Not the country, of course...in fact, one of my best childhood memories took place in the front yard of a house my parents and I had rented in Moscow when I was maybe...five or six? But...I've just been looking forward to Christmas so long because I knew I'd be spending it with you," she said, unknowingly echoing Hotch's previous heartfelt thoughts. "And now I'm just pulling back -"

Hotch interrupted her with a passionate kiss; the only way he knew how to silence her adorable ramblings. "You're not pulling back. Yes, I would love to spend Christmas with you; but your parents are your parents! Go to Russia, have an amazing time. This just means we get to celebrate Christmas earlier than most," he said brightly, his eyes sparkling as he sought out the good side of everything. He had never been such an optimist before Emily had waltzed into his life; and he loved it.

Her expression softened. "But it won't be the same."

"We'll make it just as special, I promise." Their foreheads came to rest against one another. "When do you leave?" he asked almost reluctantly.

"The eighteenth," Emily said glumly. "I don't get back until January the second; that's _two whole weeks_."

Unable to prevent it, Hotch winced. Luckily, she didn't see it. _God, two weeks? I don't know what I'll do._ "The eighteenth, you said?" he replied instead. "Well, then. That gives us a good week and a half, two weeks until you leave." He gave her hands an affectionate squeeze. "We'll celebrate next Friday. How about it? I'll take you to dinner, and then we can spend all of Saturday at that special place I have in mind."

"The special place I keep trying to worm out of you, but you refuse to tell me more about?" Emily retorted teasingly.

Hotch chuckled. "That would be the one."

"Then in that case, Christmas two weeks in advance sounds wonderful. I can't wait."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Please be sure to tell me what you think! Your feedback is always greatly appreciated. No account needed!<strong>


	16. Star Light, Star Bright

**Author's Note: Well, here it is! The chapter many of you have been guessing (and pestering me!) about. ;) I have this crazy feeling that y'all will _love_ it. (Lol, see what I did there? If not, you will in a couple minutes.) And hopefully I'll be right! As always, thank you so much for reading!**

**Oh yeah, and the later half of the chapter is rated M! Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"This is nice."<p>

Hotch smiled to himself at her breathless tone, then wrapped his arm snugly around her waist. "I agree," he said simply, turning his head and stealing a kiss from Emily before she could eat anymore of the grapefruit gelato she had insisted on trying. The bittersweet flavor that was mingling on her lips exploded on his tongue, and for the life of him, Hotch couldn't suppress the surprised moan that rattled in the back of his throat.

Emily's musical laughter reached his ears. "It's good, isn't it? And to think, all this time, you didn't believe me."

"It's delicious," he said against her skin, waggling his eyebrows playfully and eliciting yet another joyous laugh from the lips of the brunette.

"You're incorrigible."

Something about her appearance struck a chord deep within him. It wasn't her wind-toussled hair, or her glossy lips, or even the way she looked in that little black dress and those tall black heels. His smile grew. "You're wearing your red coat," he said, drinking her in. _She's wearing that coat. Tonight's the night_, he told himself. _Tonight is when you tell her. Tonight is the night when your wish comes true._

Emily arched an eyebrow. "Why, yes, _Detective_ Hotchner, I never knew you were so astute. I _am_ wearing my red coat, good job." She smirked when his lips attacked the side of her neck at her sarcasm. "I know it's your favorite; so of course I was going to wear it tonight."

"How kind of you," he murmured. Burying his face in her neck as they stopped for Emily to throw away the cup her gelato had been in, Hotch took the moment to breathe her in. The smell of rose water filled his senses, and in that moment, Hotch could think of nothing more alluring. Already, the night had been the best in his life; after making love for hours on end, they'd had breakfast - and lunch - in bed, then had gone window shopping at some small boutiques, seen a movie, walked some more, grabbed dinner and dessert. And now...they were approaching _that place, _the place Hotch had been looking forward to taking Emily since the first time he had laid eyes on her.

_It can only get better from here_, he told himself. And he was right.

"Are we there yet?" Emily asked jokingly for probably the hundredth time that night, sticking her tongue out at him when he shot her a playful scowl. "My feet hurt," she whined teasingly. _"Aaron..."_

Rolling his eyes, Hotch tickled her around the waist. "Whatever, Emily. We're almost there; it's worth the walk, I promise you that." But regardless, even though he knew she had just been yanking his chain, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms, reveling in the surprised little gasp that escaped her lips in result.

"Aaron, what are you -"

"You said your feet hurt." Instead of being lighthearted as their conversation had previously been, Hotch's voice was gentle, earnest. He kissed her forehead as she wrapped her arms around his neck for added support. "I want you to enjoy today as much as possible."

Her expression softened. "I don't think it's possible for me to _not_ enjoy a day I spend entirely with you," Emily said frankly. Her heels dangled from her toes. "And before I forget, thank you for today. You've put so much work into making today perfect, and I'd say it really paid off. Hopefully you think the same way."

"Of course I do. What man wouldn't enjoy spending a full twenty-four hours with the most gorgeous w -" Hotch was cut off by a hard yet ultimately sweet kiss.

"Don't finish that question," she murmured against his parted lips. "God, sometimes I wish you had at least _one_ flaw. But no, you have to be the epitome of a gentleman."

Hotch just laughed and continued walking down the brightly lit sidewalk.

~.~.~

"Well...here we are." He watched indulgently as Emily took in the simplistically beautiful sights around her. Magnolia trees, still alive even in the winter, blossomed and lined their sidewalk, leading up to a pretty gazebo at the far end of the park. "My father...we lived in South Carolina, but he often traveled to DC for work, and he would make sure to take me and my brother with him. We would always scope out these little unfamiliar venues to enjoy...these little hidden gems. And this park was one of them." He pointed past her to a place a couple paces from where they were standing. "You see that jungle gym over there? Of course, it's been repainted...the entire park has been redone, for that matter. But it's the very same one that Sean fell off of when he was five. He got a pretty bad concussion, and I got my fair share of bruises there myself. But we were happy."

Emily smiled at the mental image of a young Aaron Hotchner, running around on a bright sunny day with his family. She could see him stop to brush an errant strand of hair that was tickling his forehead, and bend down to tie his small, colorful sneakers. "That sounds lovely," she said softly, seeking out his hand with one of hers.

"It was. It really was. I think...I think I had the most fun here than I did anywhere else when I was younger. All thanks to my dad," he added as an afterthought.

Emily didn't notice his second of hesitation, however. She rested her head on his broad shoulder. "Where does he live now, your dad?"

Hotch's voice was near silent when he spoke. "He passed away when I was thirteen."

"Oh." She looked up to find him gazing down at her, his expression unreadable. "I'm...sorry to hear that," she said sincerely, running her thumb along the arch of his hand. "I'm sure he was a wonderful man."

_If you only knew_, Hotch wanted to say. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted her to know. He wasn't usually one for telling secrets or sharing stories of his childhood...but with Emily, all bets were off. She was something else, a beacon in the darkness that surrounded him. He had an inkling that if he let her, she would stay with him till the end of their days.

The stories of his father were for another day, he decided. After all, she would still be there beside him.

In answer to her kind statement, Hotch simply nodded, and cast his eyes somewhere else. If she noticed anything strange about his behavior, she didn't bring it up, only followed his gaze with her own, smiling even brighter when she glanced up above their heads. "Oh..." Emily breathed, "it's beautiful. I can't believe I didn't notice before."

"It _is_ beautiful, isn't it?" He knew just what she was referring to without having to ask. High above were rows and rows, _endless rows_, of tiny stringed lights, acting as a sort of canopy for the lovers who walked beneath their iridescence. The lights shone in the night sky, almost like stars...yet closer, more tangible. Without even a second of hesitation, Hotch shrugged off his jacket and laid it out on the pavement beneath their feet. His eyes crinkled at the corners when a sweetly confused expression found its way to Emily's face. "Lie down," he whispered needlessly, giving her an encouraging smile.

Surprisingly, she did so without protest - but not without a chuckle that was equal parts breathy and confused.

Once she was settled, her gloriously tight black dress barely covering her folded knees, she peered up at the sky. "God, it's like it only gets more breathtaking," Emily said, gazing above as she stretched out on her back, Hotch laying down beside her. "It's _beautiful_," she said again.

"Beautiful," he echoed. But Hotch wasn't looking at the lights. Finally, his moment had come. "Listen, Emily…there's something I need to tell you; something I've been meaning to tell you for a while, really. It's a story you've heard before. I've never had much luck with women. I was ready to give up…and then, I met you." He smiled when she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. "You know better than most just how gruesome my job can be, yet you don't push me away. Instead, you've supported me, you've _understood me_, and you've…you've been a beacon of light in the darkness that often is my daily grind." He rested his forehead against hers. "I'm not asking you to say it back; I don't _expect_ you to say it back. But it's something I have to say because it's the truth." His heart skipped a beat as Emily gazed deep into his eyes.

"I love you, Emily Prentiss."

Emily's eyes fell closed, her lips curving into the most gorgeous of smiles he had ever seen. Her heart wept with joy. It was a while before she could speak; not only because his lips were robbing her of the ability to formulate any coherent thoughts, but because his words had her blissfully stunned.

Just when Hotch thought Emily would never respond, he felt her lips move to his ear.

"Say it again," she whispered, her voice thick, her eyes sparkling.

He grinned. "I love you, Emily."

"Good," she breathed happily. "Because I love you, too."

Hotch nipped at her jaw, his skin thrumming and his heart soaring as well. "I'm sorry, what did you say? I didn't quite get that."

Laughing, Emily rained a playful smack to his chest. "I love you, Aaron Hotchner," she said loudly, winking. "Better?"

"Oh, yes. Much better."

~.~.~

Emily actually squealed as Hotch lifted her into his strong arms for the second time that night. There were really no words to adequately describe the state of pure joy she was in. With his heartfelt words still echoing in her ears, Emily gladly allowed Hotch to carry her off to his bedroom, for she knew just what delights he had in store for her. Though, nothing could sweeten the moment - it was already as sweet as could be.

Hotch was determined to prove her wrong, however. Without another word, he embarked on a quest for the softest, smoothest skin he could find, a quest for breathy little sighs, tender moans, and dulled nails digging into his back and shoulders. Spending the night with Emily was always an exhilarating experience, a fact that was driven home all the more readily as she arched into his large hands, her already swollen lips parting to meet his.

She was as hot as fire, and boy, did she know it.

Emily latched her lips onto Hotch's pulse point as he laid her back against his comfortably sturdy bed. She couldn't help it; her eyes rolled back in her head as his hands crept beneath her dress and caressed the sensitized skin there. It hadn't been too long since their last embrace, but the more she gazed at him, cloaked in the darkness that had blanketed the small bedroom, the more eager she became. It was bound to be a new journey for them, _making love_ after such a frank admission. But Emily was ready.

And so was Hotch. Stripping himself of his suit jacket and shirt, he chuckled huskily as Emily's deft fingers worked at the buckle of his stubborn dark leather belt. "Patience, beautiful. We have all night," he said, his voice dripping with seduction.

Emily smirked. "You're the one to talk," she countered smartly, sighing contentedly as he rid her of her bra. Just when the two thought their impassioned actions could never be tamed, Hotch exhaled deeply, then lowered his lips to hers for yet another kiss.

But the kiss was different. Before either Hotch or Emily could even _think_, their dressy attire had fallen off the bed and to the floor in a pool of cotton, lace, and silk - but neither could have cared less. Their lips lazily flirted against each other, a more tender and less hurried neediness coursing through their veins now. Skin against skin, they moved together in synchrony, desperate for some sort of contact. Yet, the wait, too, was all part of the fun.

_"Aaron,"_ Emily panted as Hotch fisted a hand into the one scrap of lace that remained. "Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want hard and fast," she whispered, her breathing heavy.

He groaned at the sheer thought; at the image that flashed behind his eyelids as he thought of pinning Emily's arms to the mattress and loving her until she couldn't even remember her own name. But now wasn't the time or place for anything of the sort, he reminded himself. No matter how good it sounded.

"I know."

But even with his answer, Emily wasn't done yet. "I want it nice and slow," she continued dazedly, "...and..." He bent his head and took a nipple between his teeth, catching her pleasantly off guard. _"Oh."_

A slow handsome smile curved Hotch's lips. "You want me to make love to you, sweetheart?" he crooned. "Is that it?" Emily couldn't concentrate; too much was happening all at once! And it was all so perfect. Countless love bites littered her chest, yet amongst the innumerable sensations, Hotch's fingers crept lower and lower and...

She nodded overwhelmedly in answer as her panties joined the mess of clothes beneath them. "Uh huh," she moaned.

"I plan on doing just that," he promised. Within a heartbeat, he had her gasping against his lips. She felt so absolutely amazing around his fingers, so warm and wet, so yielding to his gently persistent touch. Hotch experimented with her sensitive, sweet-smelling flesh, cataloguing every visceral reaction she had to every scissor of his fingers. A contented giggle here, a lustful cry there, sighs, groans, pants...

It was when he pressed his mouth to her that she outright screamed, the ecstatic sound piercing the heavy silence that had lapsed around their bed. He growled against her damp folds, holding her still and steady as she writhed beneath his ministrations. "Come on," he murmured, his eyes black with lust. "Come on, Emily, that's it," he coaxed encouragingly, lapping her up as she jerked forward, desperate for more. Once again, he couldn't suppress the moan that slipped past when he licked his lips and tasted her enticing flavor on his tongue. _Just when he had thought Emily couldn't possibly get more sexy,_ he thought.

While Hotch had the freedom to indulge in however many erotically charged thoughts he wanted to, in her current state of mind, Emily was physically unable to think about anything at all. In that moment, nothing mattered but the feel of Hotch's rough palms on her hips, his lips and teeth pulling at her clit, his coarse black hair rubbing the inside of her thigh. What surprised her, though, was just how gentle he was being. Never before had she come across a man with so much focus and determination; she knew it was a trait he exhibited day in and day out for his job...but she never would have imagined that he would be so absolutely explosive beneath the sheets.

Hotch's rhythmic coaxing still providing Emily with the perfect white noise, she felt herself rapidly approaching that point of no return. She normally prided herself in her stamina and endurance, in all fields, but with Hotch, she had readily thrown any and all thoughts of self-preservation out the window. He was too tender, too loving, too perfect for her to ignore. So instead, she allowed herself to be flung headfirst into the multitude of emotions and sensations he was resurrecting.

The moment she let go of the reins, the tension coiled deep within her belly.

Evidently, Hotch could tell. Smiling, he upped his ante; fingers joined his lips and tongue, and his continued feral growling rumbled through to her bone, setting nerve endings on fire. Emily's skin hummed as she came closer and closer, her unintelligible noises getting gradually louder as every second passed. "Aaron, please," she managed. _Have mercy on me_, she wanted to beg, but _God, _it all felt too good.

Hotch's smug smile was evidence enough of the fact. "Please what?" he crooned low in her ear. "Tell me what you want, Emily," he implored, her name as smooth as aged whiskey on his tongue. Stars began to invade her vision as he crooked his fingers in just the right way. For him, the wait was pure torture; he could feel his steely erection throbbing and pulsating, just begging to be touched. But he couldn't steal away from Emily to give himself that second of release, he just couldn't. It would be a crime to leave her hanging on the edge, when she obviously _so desperately _wanted that last touch that would sent her flying...

Again, she screamed.

Her hands fisted in the sheets.

Her toes curled.

Her head thrashed wonderfully against the cool, now sweat-dampened pillows.

And right as Emily began to contemplate recuperating from the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm she had ever experienced in the twenty-eight years of her life, Hotch sealed them together with one sure stroke, the steamy action tearing a guttural cry from the very bottom of his heart.

Emily's eyes widened as she gazed up at him, her skin flushed and hot as hell. Her mouth fell open in a silent keen, her eyes slamming shut then fluttering open at his generous - but welcome - intrusion. "Aaron, I love you, but I don't think I can -" She shivered as he shifted and she realized just how deeply seated, how deeply buried he was. "I don't think I can, not so soon." But despite her unsure words, Emily clutched desperately at Hotch's upper body, keeping him close - _so close_.

_I love you_, she had said.

Hotch captured her lips in a kiss, so feather light that, had her eyes been closed, Emily was sure she would have thought she was imagining things. "I know your body," he whispered confidently. "You can do it; just one more time. Nice and slow and gentle is what I promised you, and you deserve to be given just that." He languidly sucked the base of her throat. "I love you," he said in addition, sweetening their deal.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say that."

"Neither will I." Slowly, he began to move within her. It was all so familiar yet all so _new_; and it was beautiful, in its own sinful way. "I'll make it good for you," he vowed, watching as Emily's face contorted in ecstasy and partially sated desire.

And he did, with every stroke, every caress, every soulful thrust.

Though, as the white-hot curls of blissful tension began to press forward and make their presence known once more, Hotch had one thing to say. "I'm just warning you..." He bit back a groan as Emily's legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, so much deeper. "I don't think I'll be able to last very long. I feel like that's becoming a bit of a recurring problem whenever I'm with you." _You're too enticing, too tempting, sweetheart. _He smiled indulgently. "I guess I do have a flaw after all."

"Mmmm, no, I'm still running with the theory that - _oh_ - you have no flaws whatsoever," Emily insisted, her head falling back and her back arching as he kneaded her skin skillfully and continued the slick drive of his member into her scorching hot core. "Who could call this a flaw?" she asked huskily as she motioned between their bodies, her voice holding an undeniably sultry, almost drugged quality.

It was that good.

They went at it for several minutes more, embarking on a race to the finish, a quest for that blinding completion that was oh so coveted. It was when Emily reached between them to surprise Hotch with her velvet smooth touch that he let himself loose; it was a free-for-all, and he was determined to make it last. _Slow and steady wins the race_, they had all said. And with a passionate roar as he joined Emily in her second climax of the night, Hotch discovered that 'they' had been right. He covered her mouth with his, muffling her scream of _"Jesus, Aaron!"_ as he poured his heart out into the last embrace.

"I made it good for you," he whispered, his chest heaving and his heart pounding.

"You did."

Never before had he felt this way; so unbelievably sated in every aspect of his life. Carefully, he snaked an arm around Emily's waist, covering her with the sheets that were tangled between their legs. Emily's eyes crinkled at the corners as he continued his tender care for her. "I really enjoyed today," she said almost shyly. A gorgeous smile lit up hr face. "Best two-week-early Christmas _ever._"

They shared a sweet, spent laugh. "I'm glad." He laid a kiss to her temple, the taste of salt on his lips. "I love you, Emily," he said simply, letting his eyes fall closed. He hated that he couldn't stay awake any longer; he wanted to _talk _with her, _be _with her.

But he wasn't the only tired one. Nestling as far into his arms as possible, Emily left a kiss to Hotch's bare chest, then shut her eyes as well. Again, she smiled._  
><em>

"I love you, too, Aaron."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Well? ;) What do y'all think? I'd sure love to know! Please don't hesitate to leave a review; no matter long or short, signed or anonymous, they mean so very much to me! Thanks in advance!<strong>


	17. Aaron Hotchner, Chef Extraordinaire

**Author's Note: This chapter is mainly plot build-up for the chapter following it, but nonetheless, I sure hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read! It's much appreciated. :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"We have one more day," Hotch mused, watching as Emily pranced around the room in only a light pink bra and matching panties. He smiled crookedly. "Think we've stocked up on enough love-making?"<p>

"Absolutely not," she answered coyly, shooting him a wink as she walked past the bed he was still laying in. Flinging open several of her drawers, Emily haphazardly tossed clothes and various other necessities into her large suitcase, murmuring to herself all the while. _Various undergarments, a couple pairs of jeans, long sleeved shirts - oh, that one doesn't fit, _Emily frowned to herself. _Maybe I need to go shopping. But what else do I need? My favorite green sweater, of course. Coats, scarves - please tell me I still have that ivory colored scarf from years ago -_

Emily actually gasped aloud when strong arms looped unexpectedly around her waist, effectively interrupting her internal checklist. "Jesus, Aaron. Way to give me a heart attack; I guess that would be one way of keeping me from boarding my flight tomorrow," she joked.

"M'sorry," Hotch murmured into her hair. "I just...I'm going to miss you like crazy," he admitted.

Emily's expression softened immediately. Leaning back into his embrace, she sighed and said, "I'm going to miss you, too. _So_ much. Do you think you could fit in my suitcase?" she asked, her serious tone slightly marred by the quiver of her bottom lip.

Hotch left a kiss to the nape of her neck. "I could try, but I make no promises," he whispered. Finally, he moved her so that they were facing one another and gazing into each other's eyes. "If yours isn't big enough, we could always buy another one."

"That sounds like a perfect plan."

And slowly, their lips molded together, Hotch swallowing Emily's little whimpering keen in the process. She allowed him to dominate the kiss, massaging her tongue with his; but when his hands dropped from her hair to her hips, and began fisting in the lace he found there, Emily reluctantly pulled back. The dumbfounded expression on his face was almost enough to prompt her to lean back into the embrace.

"Whaa -"

"I love kissing you, and I love _you_, period." She rested her forehead against his. "But I really need to finish packing," she said apologetically, her words quiet. "I'd love if you could help me; you could, I don't know, help me choose what outfits to bring, or help me fold clothes. God, I have so much to do." She shook her head. "But, the sooner I'm done packing..." Again, Emily's lips curved at the very corners. She didn't have to finish the sentence; Hotch knew just what she meant.

Instantly, he crouched down beside her and began folding the shirts she had already piled into the luggage. He smirked a little at her resulting chuckle, then glanced back down at the task at hand, sparing an arm to snake around Emily's waist. Her bright voice reached his ears, and he had never heard a more beautiful sound. "Oh, and speaking of things I need to do, what do you want to eat for lunch?"

It was then that Hotch remembered just what he had been wanting to do with Emily on her last day before departing to Russia. It was as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head; how could he have forgotten? "No, no, no," he said immediately. "You won't be doing any cooking today. You deserve a day to kick your feet up and relax before you have to mingle with all those politicians." His distaste was obvious. "What do _you_ want for lunch?"

She gave him a comically, affectionately confused glance. "Wait - _you're_ cooking?"

He rolled his eyes, biting back his laughter. This was just one of the things he adored so much about her; she never failed to bring out a better side of him, a more laid-back, funnier side. They could engage in conversations of purely witty banter for as long as their vocal chords would allow; and they both loved it. "Okay, there may be a slight chance that we would be hospitalized if I cook lunch. But it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Of course." Emily pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "I was just teasing you, Aaron. I'm sure you can cook well," she said encouragingly.

"Yeah, well...don't bet any money on it." He chuckled some more, then closed the top of her suitcase as she rose to get more clothes. "But seriously, out of curiosity...what _do_ you want to eat?"

"Hmmm...there are so many things that sound good right now," she said, obviously conflicted - and adorably so. She made her passion of cooking obvious everyday, and Hotch found himself absolutely enchanted. "I'm not even sure what I have in my fridge and pantry," Emily continued. "The last time I fully stocked it was right after we came back from Richmond, I think. Which means that I probably have some sausage, and maybe some scallops. Probably some chicken, too. Throw in whatever other side dishes I can make, and I think we'll have a filling lunch, don't you?"

"Absolutely. I can cook sausage marginally well," he said. "But scallops..." An interestingly wary noise slipped past his lips. "Let's just say, I wouldn't risk it."

Emily just smiled, took his hand in hers, gave it a squeeze. "Then we'll cook lunch together," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. She had to admit, she was excited by the prospect of working with Hotch in her kitchen, combining her two true loves. It would be a great experience for both of them, that much was sure.

The best part was, Hotch seemed just as excited. Watching how Emily's eyes sparkled in the early morning light as she moved from one corner of the room to the other, he stood beside her, not even bothering to hide his smile now. "Really? That sounds...that sounds like a wonderful idea."

And just like that, packing for Russia was long forgotten.

~.~.~

"So, here's the recipe that we'll be using," Emily said, holding a printed page of directions up in front of their faces.

"'Scallops and chorizo.' Mmmm, I can already taste it." Hotch eagerly rubbed his hands together. "So? What do we do first, Chef Prentiss?"

She indulged him with a pretty grin. "Well, first we make sure we have all of our ingredients in front of us. The chorizo sausage, the scallops, the parsley, lemon, and the chickpeas. I'll go ahead and start dry-frying the sausage, and I'll let you chop the parsley and juice the lemon. Easy enough?" she teased once more.

"Easy enough," he growled into her ear, nipping at the skin slightly and causing an elated shiver to run down her spine. "How long will the dry-frying take?"

"Two to three minutes. Actually, once that's done, I'll let you take charge and fry the scallops in the chorizo oil. I can juice the lemon, if you'd like." Heating the pan she planned on using, Emily ran a hand through her hair as she waited and watched Hotch in action. To no one's surprise - and definitely not hers -, he looked like a professional already, what with the focused set in his brow and the look of determination in his eyes. His sleeves had been rolled up, exposing those muscular forearms she loved so much. One hand held down the parsley as his other caressed the blade of the knife he would use to chop it...and he looked so incredibly handsome...

Emily jerked out of her enamored daydream at the sound of the knife coming down against the chopping block. Her two minutes had passed; it was time to fry the scallops. And then, there was the matter of the lemon juice...

"What do I do with the parsley when I'm done?" Hotch's voice seemed to be startlingly loud in the large enough kitchen. He noticed something different in Emily's eyes; the two glassy pools had darkened almost imperceptibly, but enough to make him intrigued.

_Who knew that watching your boyfriend in the kitchen would be so incredibly arousing?_

Emily just barely managed to bite back her moan. "Keep it to the side; it's the last thing we add to the dish once it's ready. The next thing you're going to do is take the chorizo out and put it in a bowl, then add the scallops to the same pan the sausage had been in. Fry the scallops for one minute on either side. Then, once I get this lemon squeezed, we'll be good to go." She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him on the mouth. "You and I make a pretty good team, Hotchner."

Her husky voice caught him around the heart. "That we do, sweetheart. That we do."

~.~.~

"And lastly, for our drinks..." Emily brandished two glasses from behind her back. She could feel Hotch's eyes burning a scalding hot hole through her as she mixed the Triple Eight vodka and cranberry juice together, dropping in several cubes of ice into each glass. As she strategically placed lime wedges on the rims of each glass, Hotch advanced toward her, his eyes dark as night as well. He had watched her cook too many times to count; but to be right there beside her, working with her, helping her and letting her dominate...it was downright sexy.

She was placing their lunch on the dining table when his lips collided with hers, causing her to stumble backward and be pressed up against the wall - right where Hotch wanted her. If Emily was taken off guard, she didn't show it. Rather, she let him greedily claim her lips, throwing his torso into the kiss and embracing her with all his might. She was like a potent drug; even as he brought one of her legs up to wrap around his waist, they weren't close enough. They could never be close enough. Her touch was addictive, her presence intoxicating.

Emily gasped out a brief laugh. "Aaron..." She raked her fingers through his dark hair to catch his full attention. "Forget incorrigible; you're _insatiable_," she said - but the fondness in her tone was unmistakable.

Mirth danced in his eyes. "Look who's talking. 'Temptress' must be your middle name."

"Actually, my middle name is Elizabeth," she countered with a smirk. Her shoulders shook with silent amusement as she cocked her head to the side and motioned behind them. "We better eat before our lunch masterpiece gets cold."

The reminder of the food they had cooked together actually made his stomach rumble. "Lunch. Right." Stealing one last kiss, he allowed Emily to guide him back to the dining table, where their plates were already set - and steaming. "It smells delicious."

"And? How does it taste, Chef Hotchner?" Her flirtatious tone drove from his lips another smile as she moved to sit in front of him.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me, Em?" Keeping his gaze on her, Hotch speared a one-eighth inch round of sausage with his fork, coupled it with a scallop, then held it out to her, his expression inviting.

Looking straight into his eyes, Emily made a show of shaping her lips around the fork, her eyes fluttering closed. She let out a breathy moan as the taste of lemon coupled with bitter parsley exploded on her tongue; it was the most perfect combination of flavors. She smiled contentedly as she swallowed the small bite he had given her...then, opening her eyes, her smile widened as she took in the sight of Hotch, his lips slightly parted and his eyes completely black. She knew just what he was thinking; watching her in the kitchen was quite the titillating experience for him, for he'd told her that much before.

Emily's quiet little laugh drew Hotch out of his lust-fazed state. "This is absolutely _amazing_," she praised. "I'm impressed."

"Want to know why it tastes so good?" He leaned across the table to whisper in her ear. "Because I love you so much. That's why."

Emily took her turn feeding him the succulent sausage, observing as he took a sip of the vodka and cranberry juice mix as well. "Is _that _the reason why?" she teased, one eyebrow arched to her hairline. "It all makes sense now." She hummed to herself as they both dug into their food; they were surprisingly hungry, due in large part to the fact that they had done nothing but make love all morning, and the night before. "It looks like I've taught you well."

Reaching out, he casually took her hand in his, his thumb running idly across her arch as they alternated between eating and speaking. "That you have, Emily. I definitely learned from the best."

~.~.~

Wearing her favorite green sweater underneath a black peacoat, Emily was reminded of just how cold Russia would be. _You think DC is cold,_ she told herself. _Just you wait and see, Emily. _Thanks in large part to Hotch, she was officially done packing for her two week long trip. The man was even sweet enough to ask if she needed to buy anything else; he wanted her to be one-hundred-percent comfortable, he told her, and that entailed making sure she was accommodated for any endeavor she might encounter. Bad weather, especially.

Which is how they found themselves hand in hand at the nearby shopping mall, going from store to store in search of a parka. It wasn't the most flattering jacket, that was for sure, but frankly, Emily couldn't have cared less about anything flattering; the low in Moscow at the moment was twenty degrees Fahrenheit, and if she didn't want to come back home to Hotch with half of her face blackened by cold winds and hypothermia, _she was going to buy a_ _parka._

They had been at it for an hour or so when Emily finally gave up, sighing as she gave her options a once-over. In her hands were four of the heavy, down coats, but for the life of her, she couldn't choose just a single one. _And poor Hotch_, she thought. _His idea of going shopping with his girlfriend probably entailed shopping for bikinis and getting a fashion show out of it, not shopping for parkas. I'll have to repay him somehow. _

Hotch, the astute profiler that he was, noticed her uncertainty immediately. He wasn't going to lie to himself; he did want to get back home to enjoy their last night together in as many ways as possible, but he also wanted Emily to be happy with her purchase. And while other _lesser _men might have balked at the idea of spending hours doing nothing but shopping (God forbid), he respected her wishes; after all, he, too, knew the value in buying the perfect article of clothing. His penchant for elegantly tailored suits did nothing but reinforce that fact.

"I like this one," he said with finality, motioning to the one that Emily was most partial to, a light blue quilted coat with a cream-colored fur lining around the hood. She'd look good in it, he figured. After all, if anyone could pull off a parka and make it look all kinds of attractive, it was Emily Prentiss. Not that he had to tell her that; even if she denied each and every one of his praises, he hoped she knew that he told her nothing but the truth.

Emily, oblivious to the conversation he was having with himself inside his head, made an odd clucking noise. "I _love_ that one. But it's the most expensive out of all the others, and I really didn't want to spend that much money on a parka I probably won't wear other than on this trip," she said logically. "_But_, the only other one I like enough to buy is this one," she said, waving an eggplant-colored one instead. "And it's much more reasonably priced. But..." Her voice trailed away as she nipped that question in the bud. _"God, _I'm such a girl," she moaned.

Hotch couldn't help it; he chuckled, squeezing her shoulder in consolation. "And I'm glad you are. It's absolutely endearing." Taking the purple parka from her hands, he said in agreement, "This one is nice, too. And Emily, honestly, you'd look good in either one."

She rested her cheek against his broad shoulder. "This is why I have you tag along," she murmured tiredly. "You inflate my ego when it really does not need to be inflated."

"Hey, you do the same for me."

"I guess that's why we're so good together," Emily said lightheartedly, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw.

"I guess so. And you know, if you'd really rather buy that light blue one, I could always pay the difference for you," Hotch offered sweetly. "It's not too much anyway."

Emily stilled his hand the moment he reached for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans; those jeans that molded to his fine body in every right wayand made her want him all the more. She shook her head to clear it. "Definitely not, Aaron. The purple one is just as nice, and I will _not_ let you put forth any more money. You already paid for dinner! And God knows how many other dates, for that matter."

"But still -"

"Uh uh." She silenced him with a kiss that he just couldn't pass up. "No buts."

~.~.~

To no one's surprise, however, they ended up buying the light blue parka.

Hotch's powers of persuasion were to strong for her to battle against; not that she wanted to, when his lips had been on hers in the compact dressing room, his hands roaming all over her body, his hard chest pressed up against hers. Now that they were back in the comfort of her brownstone, _in her bed_, _beneath her sheets, _there was only one more thing to do, to end their more than eventful day with a bang.

Emily's breath came out in pants as Hotch tugged her blouse over her head impatiently. "Well, someone sure was a good boy today," she managed through a flurry of teeth, lips, and tongues. "And good boys deserve to be rewarded."

Her husky tone seeped through his skin and lit his nerve endings on fire. _Rewarded? _"Rewarded how?" he teased, his lips moving down to her collarbone now.

Emily gazed at him in the dim darkness of the room. She had a plan; a plan to make him forget that she was leaving in the morning, a plan to make _herself _forget she was going to Russia. Having to deal with 'wonderful' Mikhail Gordievsky and his family would no doubt make her sick to her stomach, but armed with these precious moments with Hotch, she was determined to keep her sanity. "Oh, I think you can guess," she tossed right back.

"Maybe. But I think you should remind me, just in case."

Emily's laughter filled the space around them. "Oh, don't worry. I plan on doing just that."

And she did. Twice.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Thoughts? Please leave me a review telling me what you think! I'd love to hear from you. No account needed! :)<strong>


	18. Kiss Me Through The Phone

**Author's Note: Angst, angst, angst. Three separate phone conversations. Oh, and a hilarious story told from Hotch's POV - that actually happened in real life. All of this and more in the next chapter; which I'll leave you to, without further ado! Enjoy! And as always, thank you so much for reading. :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Hotch frustratedly ran a hand through his hair as he stuffed an endless amount of files in his briefcase for the long lonely night. It was just not the same without Emily at his side; he hadn't realized it until then, but he was growing an increasing need to be around her, to hear her joyous laughter in his ears, to see her glorious smiles, to feel her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep. <em>That's what love is,<em> his conscience told him.

And Hotch couldn't have been happier.

That is, until the voice in the phone he was holding to his ear made its presence known once more. "Hey, big brother - you still there? _Hello?"_

Hotch bit back his smirk, his fingers working idly at the curled cord of the office phone. "I'm here, I'm here. Look, I'm about to leave the office, so make it quick," he quipped.

"Geez, I love you, too," Sean retorted dryly. "But anyway, back to our previous conversation..." His voice softened imperceptibly. "How're you coping?"

"Sean, you're making it sound like she's dead." _God forbid_. A beat passed. "And besides, you already know the answer to that question." How many times had they talked about this? Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose at Sean's silence; he knew better than most that his younger brother was normally a petulant, immature jerk - a _caricature_ -, but it was in rare times like this that Sean Hochner revealed a new side to his attitude, a side that actually bothered to sit still, listen, and offer what advice he could. Hotch sighed. "She's been in Russia for only five days, and I already miss her like crazy."

Sean sensed Hotch was holding back; perhaps the oldest Hotchner wasn't the only profiler in the family. "And?" he prompted.

_"And..."_ Hotch was about to continue his spiel when a question that had been in the back of his mind since first meeting Emily finally broke free. "Wait, just out of curiosity: why are you so emotionally invested in Emily's and my relationship?" His tone was light-hearted and jovial; it reminded him of a day when he and his brother would spend hours on end playing the most mindless of games. Childhood was beautiful in that sense, he supposed.

Sean actually snorted. "Maybe because you and Emily are my only matchmaking success," he teased. _Or because you're my brother and I care._

"I figured," Hotch tossed back. "But..." he sighed, "in response to your question, I feel kind of...pathetic without her. Which, in turn, makes me feel even more pathetic. I don't really know. You know me; never before have I ever needed someone else to rely on. And I wouldn't necessarily say I_ rely_ on Emily, but..."

"But when you're around her, you feel more at ease and like a different person," Sean finished. "I understand."

"Exactly," Hotch said, nodding to himself. Around him, in the bullpen, several lights went off as the last of Bureau employees left for home. He groaned a little. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"Just a bit. But that's okay, because I'd say that rambling is a trait that runs in our family. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, yes," Hotch said without hesitation, remembering the countless times Sean had called him up at two in the morning to rant and rave about some girl or another. "But it's just weird, you know? Her not being here."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure Emily feels the same way. And you've got, what, only another nine days until she's back in the States?" Sean asked. "You can do it," he said, his smirk audible in his tone.

"Only nine days, yes," Hotch deadpanned. "It's weird," he repeated. Something niggled at the front of his mind. "We said _I love you_ for the first time a couple days ago," he revealed nonchalantly.

Sean's eyes widened. "And you didn't think that was important enough to mention earlier?"

"No, I -" Hotch huffed, then rolled his eyes. "Sean, you can be such a girl sometimes."

"Thanks, bro. But seriously; _congrats._ Does this mean I hear wedding bells?"

It was Hotch's turn to be surprised. "Wedding bells?" he echoed incredulously. "You're _crazy,_ Sean. It's too soon. We've only known each other for, what? Two and a half months? Maybe three?"

Even though Sean was alone in his apartment and no one could see him, he shrugged. "I'm just saying," he said amusedly.

And, just like the one time Sean had implanted thoughts of Emily, naked, into Hotch's mind, images of Emily dressed all in white, approaching him as she strolled elegantly down the aisle, flooded his mind's eye. He'd be lying if he said it was the first time he'd thought of marriage and Emily - marriage _to_ Emily -, but all those previous times, he had been anything but serious. Now, however...

Hotch was thinking of a snide comment with which to snide comment to chastise his kid brother when he realized the red button that signaled 'call waiting' was flashing - for how long, he didn't know. "Listen, Sean, I'll call you back when I get back to my place. Someone's on the other line."

"Uh huh," Sean said disbelievingly. "Twenty bucks says it's Emily."

It was.

Less than a minute later, her sweet voice was coming over the line. "Hey," she greeted simply - and Hotch could picture her leaning against a sturdy picture window, gazing at the grounds below.

His smile was inevitable. "Hey," he said back, "how are you, beautiful?"

The endearment never failed to bring a smile to her lips. "Cold," she responded, laughing quietly all the while. "And you?"

"Marginally good. I...miss you."

"So do I." Emily sighed. "I'm about to head down for lunch with the Gordievskys, and all I can think about is you." She bit down on her bottom lip cutely. "Is that pathetic?"

"If so, then we can be pathetic together."

That lifted Emily's spirits a little. "I just miss _talking_ to you," she pouted into the phone. "It's not nearly the same without you here in Russia with me." She paused, smiled. "You should tell me a story."

"A story?" Hotch raised an eyebrow. "I'm not so good with stories, Em."

"Come on," she coaxed. "I want to learn more about you, Hotchner," she said alluringly. "Tell me something you've never told anyone else. Please?"

He chuckled lowly. "Okay, okay. I'll tell you a story." He paused, grimaced. "God, this is embarrassing."

"Embarrassing is good," Emily encouraged.

"I suppose." Hotch cleared his throat. "Okay, so...during the summer after my junior year of college, a group of my friends and I decided to take a trip to Ireland for a couple weeks."

"Just because?"

"Just because. So, the day we get there, we discover a pub by our hotel - and I mean _right by_ our hotel. Naturally, we went in, only to discover a group of middle-aged Irish men going around, getting everyone to sing Irish country western songs. A couple minutes and several drinks later, everyone in the pub is singing at the top of their lungs, my friends and myself included. My friend James procured a guitar from somewhere, someone's playing the bagpipe awfully - it was pretty intense." Hotch's heart swelled at Emily's enthused laughter. "Eventually, the 'party' becomes so hardcore - for lack of a better word - that the bartender joins in. Well, an old man whose name was Walter and I decided it would be a completely okay idea to serve ourselves whatever we wanted."

_"Aaron Hotchner, I never."_

"Now, Walter, he really liked his scotch. So, together...we tried every type of scotch the pub had to offer." His shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. "Mind you, it wasn't as if we were downing full glasses...but when you drink fifteen or sixteen types of scotch in one sitting, you get _pretty drunk._"

Emily was practically crying, she was laughing so hard._ "Oh my God."_

"Oh, it gets better, sweetheart. Somehow, I managed to get back to our hotel without being killed. The only problem is, once I get to my room and out of my clothes, I am so out of it that I'm one-hundred percent convinced I'm in the wrong room."

Emily covered her mouth with her hands. "Aaron, tell me you didn't -"

"I did. In only my tee-shirt and underwear; and _briefs_, not boxers. Oh, and the tee-shirt was tucked in beneath the waistband to my underwear, because I apparently felt the need to look formal." Emily's laughter reached a hysterical volume. "So, I streaked down the hallway and banged on my friend Paige's door, demanding her to let me into my room. Long story short, I woke everyone on that floor up and spent the entire night - or should I say, early morning - throwing up in Paige's bathroom. It was a good day."

_"Oh my_ _God_,_"_ she repeated for what had to have been the thousandth time. "I _so_ wish I had been there to see that," Emily said, her sides and lungs aching from their previous exertion. "I almost don't believe you."

"I didn't believe Paige when she told me about it the next day; of course I remembered _nothing._ That was a hell of a lot of hard liquor."

"Your poor liver," Emily cooed.

"Yes, exactly." He finally let a hearty laugh slip past his lips. "I bet that's not what you had in mind when you asked for a story."

"Definitely _not_, but I believe you just set a new standard for story-telling," Emily revealed, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"It's your turn next time," Hotch warned. "Besides, I don't think anything more embarrassing than that has ever happened to me."

"How do I know you're not just saying that?" Emily teased.

"You don't."

Shrugging on her trusty green sweater, Emily sighed into the phone. "Listen, Aaron, I have to head down for lunch, but - oh, someone's calling on the other line," she said suddenly, her surprise evident. "That's odd."

Hotch longed to give her a goodbye kiss. "Go ahead, Em, take the call - and enjoy your lunch." He smiled. "We'll talk more tomorrow?"

"Or...later tonight," Emily offered almost sheepishly.

"That sounds perfect. I love you," he reminded sweetly.

Emily's eyes fell closed contentedly. "I love you, too. Bye, Aaron." Then, curiously, her manicured eyebrows furrowing together as she wondered who the mystery caller could be, she pressed a hesitant finger to the 'call waiting' button. "Hello?" she answered tentatively.

"Emily Prentiss?"

The unfamiliar male voice only served to increase her curiosity. "Yes, this is she; who is this?"

"Emily, this is Adam Tate with the admissions board of the School of Public Health at Yale University, calling in regards to the interest you showed in our Social and Behavioral Sciences program. I called the number you had provided on your application, at your mother's embassy, only to be redirected to this number; I'm glad it's the right one," he said amicably. "Anyway - you might want to sit down, Emily. We have some very good news for you."

All at once, a feeling of uncontrollable excitement and unconcealable dread filled her veins; she had almost forgotten.

_Oh my God_, she thought, her heart racing.

_Oh my God, Aaron._

_This changes everything._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Okay, so I know I promised some real action in this chapter and it ended up being too short and mainly filler for the one to follow - but I couldn't resist the opportunity that a cliffhanger provides. Y'all love me, remember?<strong>

**Anyway...t****hanks again for reading! **_Please_ take a minute to test out that shiny new review button. No matter long or short, or signed or anonymous, I love hearing from you! :) And yes - ****************reviewer #300 gets a oneshot written for the prompt of their choosing!********


	19. Romeo and Juliet

**Author's Note: Thank God for summer. I was beginning to hate myself because I had to put this story on the backburner while I studied. Now that I'm free, however, you can expect several more updates from me in the upcoming weeks. As always, thank you so much for reading and for your patience; I sure hope you enjoy! :) **

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><em>"You might want to sit down, Emily. We have some very good news for you."<em>

Emily swallowed thickly, her thoughts running a mile a minute. Already, a smile made to curve the corners of her mouth. "And when you say 'good news', you mean..." Her voice trailed away.

Adam Tate smiled. "Congratulations, Emily. You're one of the select few we chose to admit into our Social and Behavioral Sciences program. We couldn't be prouder."

Even though she had guessed his answer from the moment he had introduced himself, Emily still felt the air whoosh out of her lungs at his announcement. _"Oh my God._ Are you serious? That's -" She paused, shaking her head. She had actually done it; she had gotten into the college of her dreams. So what if she was twenty-eight years old? She was going to Yale _freaking_ University! "That's amazing," she said frankly, more to herself than to the man on the other line.

"It is," Tate agreed. "Especially when you look at our acceptance rates. Now, I don't know when you are getting back to the States, but when you do, here should be a packet waiting for you at your address. In that packet, you'll find letters regarding the scholarship money you've been awarded, course options, lodging - the basics, all of which you're familiar with, I'm sure."

_Scholarship money?_ Emily's head was spinning; though not with _all_ good thoughts as she contemplated the last factor he had just mentioned.

_Lodging_.

She would have to start a new life in Connecticut; she would have to find a new barista to joke around with in the mornings, a new elderly postman who would tease her each day, a new job to make her feel at home...new friends. And Aaron.

_God,_ how could she even bring this up to him? It was as if she was being torn in half; it was the opportunity of a lifetime, the job of her dreams...but Hotch was the man of her dreams. How was she supposed to choose?

At what he took to be stunned silence on Emily's part, Adam Tate simply smiled once more. "A bit overwhelming, isn't it?"

Emily let out a second of breathless, borderline hysterical laughter. "Very."

"Well, all in all, I assure you that's a good thing. Now, I know you're busy, so I'll leave you to yourself for now. _But__, _if you ever have any questions or worries, feel free to contact me at this number; my card is also in the packet I was speaking of earlier."

"I will," Emily assured. "Thank you; not only for the kind offer...but, well, for the great news."

"It's my pleasure. Yale is lucky to have you, Emily."

"Thank you." And then, with muttered goodbyes, Emily hung up the phone, trying her hardest to ignore the tears that burned her eyes.

~.~.~

When she finally made it down for lunch, Emily was surprised to see that her only dining companion was none other than Mikhail himself - and his food was untouched. Upon seeing her enter the spacious dining room, he immediately stood; then as she sank into a chair across from him, he took her hand in his and brought it to her lips.

She smiled half-heartedly. "Please don't tell me you were waiting for me this entire time," she said, glancing over at his probably cold food.

Mikhail simply shook his head in his telltale kind manner. "Do not worry about it," he brushed off. "It's nothing, really." He waited for her to spear part of her fish with her fork before speaking some more. "The last time we saw each other was when? Ten years ago?" His eyes shone. "It's very good to see you. You've grown to be a truly beautiful woman, Emily."

Emily's gaze dropped to her hands, which were now folded in her lap. "Thank you, Mikhail," she said graciously. "That's very nice of you to say." If his compliments and demeanor unsettled her, she didn't act like it; she simply looked away, hoping her body language would be an effective enough mode of communication. "It's...nice to see you."

"You ought to come to Russia more often, to work on the language," he encouraged. "You can still speak some, no?"

"I can...not as well as I used to, I suppose, and not as well as I speak Italian or French."

"I believe I still have some of my old school books from when Mother hired me a tutor when I was much younger; I would be more than happy to lend them to you." She was good at reading behavior, however, and there was just _something _about the expression on his face...

Emily cleared her throat quietly. Mikhail was a gentleman, she knew that much; but she deeply hoped he wasn't disillusioned and believed they would be able to start anything reminiscent to a relationship. He had been the same way during her last visit; they had kissed once, all those years ago, in the spacious backyard garden beneath a shade tree. He had been sweet to her, but they had never clicked; and he lived in _Russia_, four thousand eight hundred miles away. She was about to bring up the touchy subject and prove to him she was not interested, when Mikhail broke the brief silence that had lapsed between them._  
><em>

"What's wrong?"

She looked at him curiously, her hand freezing in midair as she brought her fork to her lips. "What do you mean?"

"I can see...conflict behind your dark eyes," he noted astutely. "Is everything okay?"

Emily stared at him for the longest of minutes. How did she answer? On one hand, nothing could have been more perfect; people would have killed for the opportunities she had been blessed with. But on the other hand...she felt her heart being ripped into pieces slowly, one by one. Finally, she let out a sigh. "It's a long story."

Mikhail glanced at the clock behind them. "I believe we have a long time," he said gently. "That is, if you do want to talk. I wouldn't force you," he added instantly.

"I know," she said immediately. "I know you wouldn't. I just..." Carefully, she set down her fork and pushed her half-eaten plate of food to the side. "There's a man back home in the States...his name is Aaron. We've been in a relationship for a while, and...well, I feel like things between us are getting pretty serious. And I'm _so_ happy they are. I've been needing a friendship and relationship like the one he has offered me, and he just...brings out the best in me," she said, fully aware that she was beginning to ramble.

Mikhail didn't mind, however. "But?" he prompted, his gaze seeking hers.

"But...he lives where I live, in DC. And, the reason it took me so long to come down for lunch was...a phone call. From Yale University," she disclosed.

Slowly, he began to understand. "And Yale isn't in DC, it's in...Connecticut, am I right?"

"Yes, New Haven." Emily toyed idly with the strings at the bottom of the intricately woven tablecloth. "It's a three hundred mile drive. And I've wanted to go to Yale for as long as I can remember; the only reason I went to Georgetown after high school is because it was convenient and I had been so tired of moving my entire teenage life. I just wanted a place to call home for longer than a couple months, you know?" He answered with a nod. "But...I just don't know how to tell Aaron. He's such a sweetheart; I know he would support me in anything I want to take on. But while I don't want to say goodbye...how would I ever pass up the opportunity to attend Yale, after which I could potentially move on from the culinary arts into public service, where I've wanted to work ever since I was young?"

"I don't know what to tell you," Mikhail said apologetically. "I wish I could be more helpful; and I'm sorry for bringing it up in the first place," he lamented, noticing the immense sadness reflected in her shining eyes. "But...if it helps, I do think I can sympathize with you somewhat." He ran a hand through his hair almost nervously. "There's a woman who lives a few blocks down from here; her name is Natalia, and...I think I am in love with her," he admitted. "The only problem is, we've been seeing each other in secret; forgive my over-dramatization, but it's true. Our families have never really liked each other," he explained. "It's a sort of inheritable hatred that has been passed on down the generations; why, I don't know. It's like...a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, I guess you could say. Except...except, I hope we have a happy ending."

Emily nodded mutely. "Yeah. So do I."

~.~.~

Hotch could hardly contain his excitement as he drove down the nearly empty freeway, heading towards the landing strip where Emily's plane would be landing within minutes. It had been too long since they had last seen one another; the past two weeks had been comparable to the worst types of torture.

But the two weeks alone had given him time to think.

Unbidden, whenever he had been unoccupied and his mind had been allowed to wander, he had thought of a life with Emily; not just as his girlfriend, but maybe as something...more. With any other woman, he would've undoubtedly considered three months to be too short to get to _really_ know someone's true character. But with Emily? The moment he had seen her at the door of Sean's restaurant, they had hit it off immediately. He remembered her cursing under her breath as she ran off to feed her neighbor's cat, the memory causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners.

It was like they were two sides of the same coin; and he loved it. He loved her. Which is why, in his pocket, was a single drawstring pouch made of the thinnest red fabric. And inside the pouch...was a key.

He didn't know how he was going to ask her to move in with him. He would probably mumble something incoherent and greet her with a needy kiss, pressing the key into her palm; since no words were ever necessary between them. But, as daunting as the task seemed, there _were_ things he wanted to tell her. Like how he was sure it was time to take a step forward, and that he couldn't imagine a future without her in it.

He was head over heels, and there was nothing anyone could do to change that.

Finally finding a close enough parking space in the huge airport lot, Hotch took a deep breath and stepped out of his car, the key weighing seemingly a hundred pounds as it rested in his pocket. As his strides became wider and wider, Hotch's heart began beating faster and faster; he hadn't expected there to be so many people waiting for the plane to land, but he supposed it made sense, as he remembered that Emily had only taken her family's jet _to_ Russia, and had chosen to ride commercially back. It had been one of the things they had spoken about on their most recent phone call; that, and the amazing phone sex that had ensued.

He smiled just thinking about it.

In the sudden influx of people that surrounded him as Flight 540 from Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow, Russia finally touched down, Hotch greedily searched each face that passed his, in search of a dark-haired, inordinately beautiful woman with full red lips and soft, pale skin -

_There._

For a split second, he stood rooted to the floor, dumbed down as he caught her gaze from across the room in a way that only lovers in movies did. But that second had long since passed, and before he knew it, Emily had flung herself into his arms, her arms wrapping immediately around his neck in a snug embrace. Her bags fell off her arms and to their feet, but neither cared nor noticed, not when their lips found each other's in a long, dizzying kiss. It was at that moment that Hotch knew his decision would be the right one; he could already see her accepting his offer, moving in, getting comfortable in his home. Then, one day, maybe they'd have a home of their own, and...

"God, I've missed you so much," she moaned against his jaw, holding him to her as tightly as possible. There was a certain indescribable desperation in the way she clung to him, but if Hotch noticed, he didn't say a thing, too busy was he reveling in the feel of her in his arms at last. From the way they were acting, one could have conjectured that they had gone a lifetime without seeing one another - but then again, Emily reminded herself that she would be living a new life soon.

Her heart plunged to her stomach.

But again, Hotch didn't notice. "I missed you, too," he said, not wanting to stop kissing her for as long as he lived. "Our phone calls weren't enough; I had to _see_ you."

"I know what you mean." God, did she.

"Listen, sweetheart," Hotch took both of Emily's hands in his, "there's something I really want to talk to you about. Something...important." Emily's eyes widened slightly. "We don't have to talk about it now, if you don't want to," he said immediately, misreading her expression of apprehension. "In fact...do you want to go out to eat somewhere? I wasn't sure if you'd had lunch already, or..." His voice trailed away.

Worrying away at her bottom lip, Emily gave him a curt nod. "Lunch would be great," she said quickly - a little too quickly.

She winced as she saw Hotch's eyebrows furrow worriedly. "Are you okay, Em? You look a bit..."

"Hungry," she inserted, forcing a smile.

Hotch left one more kiss against her sweet lips. "I was going to say 'anxious'."

"Oh." Emily shook it off with an elegant shrug. "I-I wouldn't say _anxious_. I just, uh...have a lot to talk to you about as well. About my trip, about Russia in general, about...a lot of things."

"I can't wait to hear it then," Hotch said, so painfully yet blissfully oblivious. Taking Emily's hand in hers, he ran a thumb over her smooth arch, then toyed with her fingers playfully. "How about we talk over a couple burgers and milkshakes? There's a great place nearby; their french fries are to die for."

Emily rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. "That sounds great," she whispered - though her heart was yelling just the opposite.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: So - I predict about four to five more chapters for this part (Part One) of Kiss The Cook. Part Two will most likely be longer (and yes, it will be a happy ending, no worries).<strong>

** Again, I thank you all for your patience and support over the course of writing this story; your feedback means so incredibly much to me, so _please_, take a minute to leave a review. No matter how long or short, signed or anonymous, they always make my day! :)**


	20. Resignation

**Author's Note: This is most likely the most angsty this story will ever get - or at least, the most angsty Part One will be. A happy ending is sure to be on the horizon, but for now, Emily has to tell Hotch exactly what information regarding her - and their - future she learned while she was in Russia. Thank you so much for sticking with this crazy story of mine; your support means the world to me. So, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"Okay, Em. What's wrong?"<p>

She almost choked on her milkshake. "N-nothing's wrong," she sputtered. Then, with sudden clarity: "Are you profiling me?" The question was meant to be light, playful; instead, it fell flat.

Hotch met her gaze with an expression of patient concern. He said nothing, simply took her hand in his and comforted her in that maddeningly sweet way of his. Finally, a sigh passed Emily's lips.

"Do you remember," she began, "that one night that you called me, and I told you I was expected for lunch with my family and the Gordievskys; so you told me to go ahead, that we'd talk later?" Hotch started to nod slowly, faint recognition beginning to dawn on him. Emily bit her lip hard, then continued. "But right before I could hang up, someone else called on the other line…"

"…and you were surprised, because you didn't know who else would know you were in Russia at the time," Hotch finished. "Yes, I remember." He paused, thinking of the worst possible thing that could have happened. _Was the phone call from a doctor?_ he worried. "Is everyone in your family alright?"

God, how was she supposed to leave him when he cared _so much_? "Y-yes, we're fine," she said gently; but her eyes didn't quite meet his.

"Emily, please."

She shivered under his intense stare, then had no choice but to relent. "That day, that caller…it was the admission's director for Yale University. I…I got accepted into their behavioral and social science program for the spring semester."

A whole minute ticked past. And then…

Hotch grinned. "Emily, that's incredible! You've wanted to go to Yale for forever, you told me. And their science program is one of the best in the nation," he praised. "Congratulations." His happy grin began to falter soon, however, as he took in the less than ecstatic expression on her pretty face. "But…?"

"The _upcoming_ spring semester, Aaron. That's in just a matter of weeks; and before that, you _know_ I'm going to have to find a place and settle down. I can't commute from DC to New Haven every day." _T__his spring. Oh my God._

_Oh._ Hotch's breathing began to slow. "But...what about your job?" _And...what about us?_

"About that," she said almost sheepishly; how was he going to react when he found out that she had worked everything out perfectly? Too perfectly, almost. "You know how our restaurant has been in the process of renovation and expansion lately? Well...I'm sure Sean has already told you that he has his eye on a position in the New York branch. He went there over Christmas, didn't he, to see whether or not he likes it enough. Similarly...well, one of the main places we're opening is in Fairfield. I've done my research, called a few people; there's a train that heads out to New Haven from Fairfield each day. The commute only takes a half hour. But...that's not it."

Hotch wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore. His mind was reeling; he almost couldn't breathe. "What is it?" he asked, still curious; but more tight.

"Regarding the restaurant in Fairfield...I've been offered a managerial position there," Emily revealed, and she couldn't suppress the tiny shred of excitement that had hidden behind all the fear and sadness. "The job would pay better, I would be more secure, there would be more benefits...it's an offer I can't turn down." Right at that moment, however, her composure began to shatter. "It's great...but it's hell for our relationship."

Hotch refused to tell her that he had been thinking the exact same thing. He was happy for her, he really was. How couldn't he be? To see that the woman he loved was advancing her career, continuing her education...he knew she would move on to do great things. He just couldn't imagine _not_ being there, at her side. He managed the smallest of smiles. "It is great, you're right," he said quietly. "When," he cleared his throat, "when do they need you?" He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"As soon as possible," Emily answered truthfully, her own voice trembling as well. She could feel the telltale burning behind her eyes; try as she might, the tightness in her throat would not alleviate on its own. "Obviously, I'm in no place to uproot from DC and head out tomorrow," she said reassuringly, and Hotch's minute sigh of relief didn't escape her attention. "But...I talked it over with my parents. And I want to talk it over with you now. I think...I think two weeks' notice is what they need." _A clean break? _she wondered. _If only there were such a thing._

Hotch couldn't help it; his eyes slammed shut. His chest tightened painfully with the knowledge that, in two weeks' time, in just fourteen days, she would be gone. Sure, they would be able to see each other every once and a while; but it wouldn't be the same. It would never be the same. "Two weeks' notice may be what they need," he said carefully, "but what about _you_, Emily? What do _you_ want?"

"I think you know the answer to that question already," Emily whispered. It was a miracle in and of itself that he could even hear her over the chatter of the people around them. "I want _you_; I would love to stay here if I could."

"But it's too good an opportunity," Hotch said understandingly.

"Yes." Emily didn't know what more she could say; they had hours of more conversation and planning ahead of them, but in that one moment, none of the necessary words managed to slip past her lips. Until something sparked her memory. "You said you wanted to ask me something important?" she reminded.

Hotch almost lost it right then and there. "I...it's nothing." He had her best intentions in mind; why make her yearn for something she wouldn't have yearned for if he hadn't brought it up in the first place? If she was anything like him - and he knew she was -, he knew the knowledge would drive her insane. Her situation was complicated enough as it was.

But Emily simply sighed. "Aaron. If it wasn't important, you wouldn't have brought it up earlier. Please tell me," she practically pleaded, coaxing the information out of him in the same way he had done with her.

His hand balled into a fist underneath the table; never before had he felt so frustrated in his life. Why did things _never_ work out for him? Emily was the perfect woman. He _loved _her, for God's sake, and she loved him back. "I was going to ask you to move in," he said without further fanfare. His movements slowed, he placed the red pouch with the key inside on the table in front of her. "I couldn't think of a good enough way to ask..." _But I guess I won't need to now_. The words didn't need to be spoken for Emily to understand.

"Oh." It was then that the tears finally broke free. A single drop of moisture slid down her cheek. It was frightening for Hotch; while he was no stranger to women's emotions, he had never before seen his strong Emily cry. It tore his heart to pieces. "Aaron, I'm so sorry -"

"Don't apologize," he said immediately, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Why should you apologize? These offers that you've been made, the opportunities you've been given...they're so special. People would kill to be where you are now. Don't ever say sorry for advancing your career and making your life better. You deserve to be put first every once and a while, you know."

"But..." Her teary eyes met his. "But I love you," Emily said, her tone almost inaudible. "I don't want to have to leave you."

"We can still work things out," Hotch said futilely. "Connecticut's not _terribly _far away. Obviously, we wouldn't be able to see each other every day, or maybe even every weekend. But we'd find a way. Long distance relationships..."

"...never work out," Emily finished logically. Oh, how she wished they did; but she'd had experience with one in the past, and the only result had been more heartbreak than she had ever been through before. "You know what I mean when I say sorry, Aaron. If it were possible, I wish we could..." _I wish we could embark on this journey together. I wish you could come with me. I wish these same opportunities were available to me in DC, so I would never have to leave. _

_I wish we could still have a future together_.

"I know," Hotch said. "Regardless, we have to try _something._ I'm not going to just...give up." Emily was silent, causing Hotch to shake his head. "But despite this all...seriously, Emily. Congratulations. I'm...I'm proud of you, darling."

The endearment served only to bring more tears to her eyes. "Thank you."

~.~.~

It came as no surprise to Emily when, as she came home from tendering her resignation from the restaurant, Hotch swept her into his arms the moment she walked through the door. What did surprise her, however, was when he didn't carry her to their bedroom, or even the couch in the small den. No, instead, the frustratingly handsome man brought her to the kitchen; and in a matter of seconds, she was putty in his hands. It seemed as if his lips were everywhere, all at the same time; her neck, her collarbone, her jaw, her forehead, the corner of her mouth, _her_ lips.

Emily gasped at the multitude of sensations running through her body, coursing through her veins. "Aaron, what are you -"

But, once more, he silenced her with a kiss. Hotch didn't want to have to think at the moment; they had thirteen more days left, and they would spend every waking minute in each other's arms if that was what it'd take. It had been a mutual agreement.

They didn't want to forget how _right _it - they - felt together.

And at the rate that Hotch was setting, forgetting seemed impossible. In a flurry of desperation-fueled hands tugging at clothing, Hotch groaned into Emily's mouth as she rid him of his shirt, the cold marble of the kitchen island pressing into his back. As much as he loved this passionate, dangerous game they played, it wasn't what he wanted at the moment; he wanted to make love to her, lay her on the island and worship her body as it should be worshipped.

So, without further ado, that is just what he did. Catching her off guard for the hundredth time in just a handful of minutes, he lifted her onto the hard surface, reveling in the gasp that fell from her lips as he reversed their roles and pressed her up against the stone instead. It was a beautiful picture; Emily, lying bare upon her kitchen counter, panting, blushing, reaching for him dazedly. She was the most delicate and gorgeous creature he had ever laid eyes on, and she knew it, and took every advantage to flaunt it.

Not this time, however. This time, she was willing to let him take the reins. Instead of grappling for control, she simply watched through hooded eyes and impossibly long lashes as he stripped himself and herself of their last vestiges of clothing. Behind them, the back window was wide open; but no one could see through, and the light that streamed into the room was beautiful in and of itself. Rather than bothering, Hotch busied himself with peppering Emily's entire body with the softest of kisses.

Emily wasn't oblivious to his change of manner. In just a split second, they had moved from frenzied to slow and languid...and she couldn't decide which she loved more. Just before she could wonder _how_ she was thinking at all, when such a sultry assault on her body was taking place, a gentle realization came to mind. It wasn't the act of his loving that she preferred, but Hotch himself.

Unconsciously, her grip in his hair tightened. She knew she would have to, and she knew it was the right choice...but God, she didn't ever want to let go.

And when, after a long awaited embrace, Hotch made them one with a single stroke...well, if Emily hadn't believed in Heaven before, she did then.

A keening moan torn from her chest, Emily's head fell back against the marble, but nothing but pleasure registered in her mind. How could she think of anything else when Hotch's rhythm was so perfect, when his chest was pressed right against hers, when his lips found her ear and whispered to her just how much he loved her, and how he would never love anyone as much as he loved her?

He was perfect.

_They_ were perfect.

It wasn't long before Hotch had Emily writhing with lust and need, and in just a second, she was _there_, racing down the peak and hurtling toward the paradise she knew only Hotch would be able to bring her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Emily whispered to herself that every time she entered a kitchen from there on out, she would think of this moment; their coupling against the countertop.

And frankly, she was quite fine with that. She didn't plan on letting him escape her conscious mind or her imagination for a very long time, and these memories he was giving her were the best she could ever wish for.

Her body thrummed with love as Hotch finally pulled out of her, chest heaving with heavy desire. A tiny whimper resounded in the room as Emily realized just how bereft she felt without his completion; but that was a thought for another day. Right now, all she wanted to do was rest in his arms. So that was just what she did. Silently, she rested her head against the crook of Hotch's neck, humming contentedly as he raked his fingers through her hair to soothe her. He tickled her scalp in the way she adored, and in return, she pressed hot kisses to the underside of his jaw, her heart swelling as she felt him swallow thickly, his throat constricting with the emotions they had tried to hold at bay in the previous minutes.

"Emily." Hotch tilted her head up with a single finger. "Emily, I..."

But Emily silenced him with a finger to his lips. She had something in mind; something to make the day even sweeter than it had been. "You know what we should do?" she asked, her voice still husky.

"What, sweetheart?"

"We should cook together," she said against his skin, breathing in his heady scent; like citrus and spice and sweat and sex. And _Aaron_.

Neither of them mentioned how it would be their last opportunity to work hand in hand in the kitchen. Neither of them refused to admit it.

"I think that's a great idea," Hotch murmured back, brushing along her full bottom lip with a thumb. Smiling, she playfully took the digit between her teeth, then moved her lips down to his wrist and kissed his pulse point.

"You know where my cookbooks are," Emily said, "why don't you grab one that you think you like, then we can choose a recipe together?"

Hotch said nothing, just disappeared from the room in the direction of Emily's bookshelf. The moment he was out of sight, however, Emily took his shirt from the ground and wrapped it around her still shaking frame, flooding her senses with his glorious scent. She didn't want him to see her cry again; she didn't to put him through that. But, try as she might, she just couldn't help it.

Resting her head in her hands against the cold marble counter, Emily released a shuddering gasp - and let the tears fall once more.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thank you sincerely for taking the time to read. If you have the time, please leave a review; short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day, and they are the best motivation and inspiration for me. Stay tuned for the next chapter; there are only two more left for Part One!<strong>**

****And...contrary to popular belief, yes, there will be a happy ending for Hotch and Emily somewhere down the line. Just hang tight. We'll get there soon enough, I promise.****


	21. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note: In _Criminal Minds_, in order for Emily to have met Hotch as an FBI agent, did she not have to go through the standard FBI Academy training to become an agent in the first place? Disregarding the security clearances he worked for her mom, of course. What I'm trying to say is this: in order to get to the happy ending - because, _yes_, there will be a happy ending -, pseudo-unhappy things have to happen. That's just the way life is.**

**Anyway, a huge thank you is in order for everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story. Your support make the constant forward drive of this story possible, and I sincerely appreciate it! Hope you enjoy this lighter, sweeter chapter. **

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><strong>"<strong>You want to know what I find completely crazy?"

Emily hummed like a content and purring kitten, her back to his front. She was in heaven, lying there in his arms, skin to skin. Heart to heart. "Hmmm?"

Hotch rested his lips against the nape of her neck. "We've only known each other for a little more than three months. _Three months_. Maybe four, only if we're stretching it. It's almost unreal, don't you think? Sometimes, I find myself thinking that I've known you..."

"...that I've known you for my entire life," Emily finished, nodding. "I feel the same exact way; more than sometimes, frankly. You were just...easy for me to fall into step beside, you know?" _Easy for me to fall in love with_. "Finally, I could say that I had someone to relate to."

"Finally, I had someone who wouldn't judge me," Hotch added. "Not just me, but...my job, too. Some would say that's not a big deal. But I took on that job for a reason; it's a part of me now. And even though I've seen some of the most horrible things imaginable..." Hotch tenderly turned her so that she was facing him. "I love what I do."

"I understand," Emily said, her slender hand coming up to idly run through his short, dark hair.

That made Hotch smile. "I know you do." Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward just enough to press his lips against Emily's in a lazy kiss. They had finished their crying several days beforehand; now, the only task on their to-do lists was to _enjoy_, to enjoy every last minute to the fullest they could.

So far, they were doing a marvelous job.

Sighing contentedly against his hard mouth, Emily playfully nibbled his bottom lip, smiling dazedly as a deep rumbling groan met her ears. Nothing about their embrace this time was hurried, a fact that Emily found lovely. While neither of them was willing to admit it, they both knew tomorrow was their last day. But the tame, languorous nature of Hotch's kisses served to coax the nervousness and regret from her system, and instilled the loving sense of peace instead. He made her happy to be at the place she was in her life; he made her happy to live in the moment, to laze around in bed for hours on end and just _love_.

A blissful smile touched her lips as Hotch's lips moved to her neck, suckling the skin there with gentle persistence. "Want to know something absolutely disgusting?" she murmured.

Hotch chuckled against the underside of her jaw. "Why do I get the feeling you'll tell me even if I say no?" he responded cheekily, closing his eyes at the sound of Emily's warm laughter.

"I still have leftovers from the meal you and I cooked together - from last week," Emily smirked. "We could heat them up for lunch, eat some plain yogurt along with, just to be safe."

Hotch laughed indulgently. "I think I'll pass for now."

"You sure? Who knows what good stomach bugs and bacteria you'll be able to consume."

"How appealing." He brushed an errant curl from her face, kissed her passionately on the mouth. "But no...you're going back to the restaurant in a few, aren't you? To say goodbye to Sean and some others?" _Sean, who is also leaving me_. "We could eat lunch there; one last time. And then, of course, I want to take you out for dinner," Hotch said - in that typical gentlemanly manner of his.

Emily buried her face in the crook of his neck. "You know where I want you to take me?" she said softly, huskily.

"Where, darling?"

She smiled beautifully once more. "The park you took me to a couple weeks ago; the one your dad used to take you to."

"The one where we first exchanged our 'I love you's?"

"That'd be the one."

Hotch unexpectedly rolled them so that Emily was lying atop his chest. "Your wish is my command," he whispered into her hair.

"Mmmm. Then, in that case...you know what? We don't have to leave for a couple more minutes." Emily was not surprised to see that the glint in Hotch's eyes matched hers exactly. "Make love to me, Aaron."

"Emily...you don't even have to ask."

~.~.~

Emily stood at the back of the kitchen, her arms crossed curiously as she observed the new chef that had been hired in her place.

They didn't waste much time, she noted dryly.

Her lips slightly pursed, Emily watched the young girl season the steak she had been cooking. It took all of her might to prevent from seasoning the damn thing herself; turmeric was simply _not_ the right spice for that particular entrée! But she couldn't really object, not when the newbie had made a particularly good herb crusted salmon.

She had asked for a sample, of course.

Emily hummed curiously. "She's good," she said to herself.

"Not as good as you." Emily started; she hadn't heard Sean come up behind her. "You've been watching for a while, haven't you? Her steaks are only subpar. Incomparable to yours, no doubt."

"Don't say that," Emily admonished; but she blushed nonetheless. "Don't let her hear you say that."

"Above the sound of the sizzling oil she's cooking the meat in? Emily, you know it's deafening." And then, Sean smiled. "But anyway...I hear congratulations in order."

Emily playfully swatted his shoulder. "Look who's talking, Mister NYC," she deflected. "So it's a done deal; you're hired?"

Sean's smile morphed into a boyish grin. "You know it. I'll be their newest chef come February. But _you..._Yale University. Jesus, that's amazing."

Emily finally relented. "Thanks, Sean. It means a lot."

"And not only that; the managerial position in Fairfield, too! Just look at you go. Your career is really kicking off, Em. You thinking of owning your own restaurant one of these days?"

"Probably not. I think I'll leave that to you," she joked.

"Right, right. You'll be too busy being a feeb to run your own restaurant. I forgot," Sean teased, smirking this time.

Emily arched an eyebrow. "I don't really think FBI agents appreciate that ever so lovely moniker. Though, you could always ask your brother about it."

Sean raised his hands in defeat, laughing all the while. "I value my life, thank you very much. But, uh..." He cleared his throat, disguising the action with a quiet cough. "Speaking of my brother. How are you two?"

Emily gave the question some thought, then eventually sighed and turned away from Sean. "You don't have to answer that," he reassured at her silence.

"No, it's not that," she finally said, mustering up a small smile of her own. "We're...not going to break-up. I couldn't possibly do that to him." She paused. "I couldn't do that to myself. And I guess that makes me so cruelly selfish," Emily thought aloud. "We're going to try our best to make a long-distance relationship work. I would love that, quite frankly. But between the hours of my classes and training _and_ job...and the weeks when he's on cases..." She ran a hand through her hair. "I love him, Sean. Tell me what I'm doing is crazy."

Sean looked at her intently. "I can't do that, Emily," he said softly. "I know so many people who would stay behind instead of grabbing hold of your opportunity with both hands. You're not one of those people, Em. I...can't really give you much advice; after all, you know my track record with relationships, _amazing_ matchmaker that I am." She snorted. "But here's what I'll tell you. Keep your mind open. Rock all of your courses and get into the FBI Academy; I know you've wanted to for forever. And then, who knows? Maybe, one of these days, you'll run into Aaron in the field - and everything would be back to normal. How's that for a future?" He smiled at Emily's conflicted expression, then pulled her into a tight hug that she readily returned. "Now go. Get out of here and spend the rest of your time with him. You've said enough goodbyes already."

"Not to you," she cracked.

"Oh, yes, about that." The insufferable boyish grin was back. "I apologize for being the most immature person you'll probably ever work with," he joked.

"Are you kidding me? It's just part of your charm," she said sincerely. "And honestly? You've been the best workmate ever. Read 'workmate' as 'chef' and 'friend'."

Sean's expression softened. "You too, Emily." He watched as she slowly, almost reluctantly, drew away to make her way back to Hotch; after all, that kitchen had been her home away from home for much too long. To simply walk away...it was practically a crime. "Good luck in Connecticut."

Emily stopped by the kitchen door, then turned and smiled. "Good luck in New York," she countered.

And then, she was gone.

~.~.~

Emily had been taking in the aesthetics of the lit up gazebo and park they were roaming through when, out of nowhere, Hotch brought her to a sudden stop with his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. A split second later, she gasped theatrically as he stole a bite of the delicious ice cream she had been eating. _"Aaron,"_ she pouted cutely, "you have your own!"

But he just laughed. "I wanted to see which one was better: your strawberry ice cream, or..." Gently, he pressed his lips to hers, smiling as Emily allowed his tongue to trace her cupid's bow, to plunder her mouth to the fullest he could. "Mmmmmm."

"Or?" she prompted, slightly breathless.

He smiled. "Or you."

Emily's eyes shone, even in the darkness of dusk that began to surround them. "And? Did you get a result for this test of yours?" she teased.

Hotch's lips dropped to her neck. "You taste _so _much better, sweetheart. No contest."

"Are you sure? This strawberry ice cream is pretty damn good."

"Exactly."

Finally, after much more playful banter, Emily let Hotch guide her toward a row of benches that had been put up near the playground. There was practically no one else there with them, save for a young woman and her toddler son. Together, the dark-haired couple just sat in restful silence; though, as they began to casually watch the mother push her child on the swings, their minds became anything but restful.

Unbidden, a painfully sweet image came to Hotch's mind, an image so painful that he was forced to look away from the squealing child. The profile of the boy remained etched into Hotch's memory, however; pale skin, dark hair, long eyelashes. He could have so easily been Emily's babbling baby boy.

He could have so easily been _their _baby.

While Hotch busied himself with shaking his head to clear it of such torturously beautiful fantasies, Emily was daydreaming of her future as well. She regarded with a stirring fondness in her heart as the mother swooped the child onto her shoulders with effortless grace, laughing along with the sweet boy's playful giggles. Quietly, Emily sighed to herself. She would be a fool if she told herself this was the first time she had thought of a family with Hotch. In fact, it had seemed to be all she could think about for a previous week; waking up in his arms every morning, kissing him slowly as he lovingly rested his hand against her swollen belly.

The dreams were threatening to take her over when Hotch finally spoke, breaking the comfortable - yet bittersweet - silence. His voice was husky with disuse - or with a certain emotion that neither wanted to address at the moment. Leaving would already be hard enough, after all.

"The first time I saw you..." Hotch chuckled, "the first time I saw you, I had no idea you were the woman Sean had told me so much - yet so little - about. No, instead, you almost locked me out of the restaurant because I had gotten there after closing time. Do you remember that?" Emily's laughter filled the fragrant space around them, soothing Hotch's heart in the way that only she could. "You were leaning against the doorframe, and at that moment, I remember thinking that you were the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on." He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Have I ever told you that?"

"Only a couple hundred times per day," Emily whispered, her lips curved upward.

"And then, right when we got to the point that we were comfortable talking to each other -"

"You make it sound like it took us a long time to get comfortable around each other," she interrupted.

"Ah. Touché." Then he smirked. "What I was going to talk about, though, was you running off because you forgot to feed your neighbor's cat. What was its name, again? Fluffy?"

"Fluffy," Emily confirmed, nodding animatedly. "Creative name, huh?"

He breathed a laugh into her hair as she leaned against his side. "Very."

"Well, when _I _first saw _you_," Emily countered, "I apparently was not distinguished enough to know that the man standing before me was _the_ Aaron Hotchner," she teased, running her fingers through his hair affectionately. "And while he was absolutely endearing and such a gentleman, I was quite the scatterbrained fool during that first conversation of ours." She paused. "Maybe you could chalk it up to nerves."

"I happen to find your scatterbrainedness adorable," Hotch whispered in her ear, making sure the nibble on its shell first.

"Good, because there's a lot of it to go around," Emily joked.

"You know what else about you I find adorable?" he continued, his voice low. "Well, everything, but...you do this thing, with your tongue and your bottom lip. You did it when Sean introduced us. Is it creepy that I still remember that?"

"Not if it's creepy that I remember you did an actual double-take when I said it's amazing that you're in the BAU. _And_ that you did a double-take when you first saw me."

"Nope. Not creepy at all," Hotch assured.

"Good." Shooting him a placated smile, Emily looked down at the near-empty ice cream cone in her hand. "You know what else I remember?" she said after a moment of thought. "You and I had ice cream the last time we came here, too."

"Looks like a tradition in the making," Hotch said, his tone filled with promise.

"Looks like it." She held the cone out to him. "Do you want the last bite?" she offered.

"Yes, please."

But instead, he kissed her hard on the mouth yet again. Emily actually squealed in her surprise, jumping to her feet and running the short distance to the playground to escape Hotch, the lovable man hot on her heels. Before he knew it, however, Emily had reached up and easily swung herself onto the top of the children's jungle gym, which gave him only one choice.

To do the very same thing.

"You never told me you had a background in gymnastics," he said casually, sidling closer to her now that they were safely several feet above the ground.

"More like dance, for a couple years when I was in high school. Other than that, nothing other than natural skill," she teased with a wink. "Why, did poor wittle Aaron get out of breath?"

Hotch snorted. "There's a reason the Bureau has a gym, Em. For its agents to use it."

"And I'm going to wager a guess and say you use it quite often," she said, unashamedly raking her gaze over his fit body.

She was answered with her hundredth kiss of the day. "That would be absolutely correct." They were silent for a moment longer, but this time, the silence wasn't filled with the fantasies that had haunted them both just minutes earlier. Hotch cocked his head in a general direction. "It's getting pretty dark out," he said softly, once he realized that she had lain on her back and was staring mutely at the stars in the sky; just as they had done the first time Hotch had brought her to this park. "Do you want to head home, Em?"

"In a minute," she murmured, turning her head to the side and smiling when Hotch moved to lay down beside her. No words needed to be said as they simply rested there, gazing into each other's dark eyes which seemed to say so much. It was as if time had frozen; they were oblivious to anything and everything but themselves.

"You know," Hotch's rumbling voice met her ears once more, "this really reminds me of the first time we came here," he said. "I don't think I could repeat it enough times. It's almost uncanny."

"Then let's make it a little more real," Emily responded simply, her lips practically unmoving.

"What do you mean?"

She smiled. "Hey, Aaron?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

The three simple words caught Hotch around the heart like a vice. It didn't matter how many times she told him; each time, he was flooded with pure happiness. He tucked a strand of hair behind her hair, then left his hand against her soft cheek in a loving caress. "I love you, too, Emily."

Likewise, Emily couldn't help it; a quiet giggle slipped past her lips. Purely to indulge him, Emily licked her bottom lip then took it between her pearly teeth. "We can go home now, if you'd like," she teased, propping herself up on her elbows. The metal monkey bars had begun to smart, anyway.

"Are you sure about that?" Hotch tossed back; it was his turn to shoot her a wink. "We could always stay a little longer."

"Mmmm, I think I'm sure." She glanced pointedly at the ground several feet below them, then gave him a sheepish smile. "You're going to have to help me down, though."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Well, what do you think? I'd sure love to know. Please don't hesitate to leave a review; no matter long or short, signed or anonymous, they mean so very much to me. Thanks in advance!<strong>**

****Only one more chapter to go until we fast forward eight years!****


	22. The End of the Beginning

**Author's Note: To those of you - no, all of you! - who have stuck with me throughout this crazy roller-coaster ride, I cannot thank you enough. You guys are the best, and a lot of this could not have been done without you. Now, without further ado, Hotch and Emily say goodbye; or rather, 'see you soon'. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One! **

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><p>They spent the entirety of the night resting in each other's arms, cuddling; chest to chest, face to face, heart to heart. They shared more than their fair share of kisses, many of which progressed to full-on, good old-fashioned make-out sessions – but nothing more, they both made sure of that. Emily knew that if they indulged in each other's bodies that fateful night, the emotions would be completely uncontrollable. There would be crying as she boarded her plane, that much she knew, but the longer she could put it off, the longer she would.<p>

That didn't stop them from making love in the early morning hours, however. As they moved together in sweet synchrony, they focused on nothing but each other, both disregarding the fact that Emily's bags were packed and waiting by the door, the fact that her apartment was bare, the fact that, with every minute, the tick of the bedside clock brought them closer to goodbye.

The possibility that this could very well be their last coupling didn't register at all, not when Emily's skin felt so good beneath his fingers, not when Hotch's hot breath felt so good against her dewy skin.

In their perfectly content bubble, neither cared.

Which is how, hours later, they surprisedly found themselves at the nearby airport, waiting. Just waiting. Hotch distracted himself from the pounding in his head by casually wrapping his arms around Emily's waist and pressing his face into the crook of her neck. "You're wearing that green sweater of yours again," he noted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I've always liked that sweater. And you look so good in it."

She shot him a pretty grin, one of her hands fisting in the material of his button down as she leaned over to give him a quick kiss. "You're too sweet. But you already knew that, because I say it almost every day." Still leaning against his side, Emily took a generous sip from the cup of hot tea in her other hand. It gave her the faint yet endearing smell of cinnamon; and Hotch knew, he would never ever forget it.

As the boarding calls for other flights were announced all around them, Emily felt her heart beginning to pound, but she was determined to brush it aside and focus on the present; the less than sixty minutes she had left with the man who had stolen her heart in the first place. Again, she smiled. "You're adorable, you know that?" When he answered with amused silence, Emily ran her empty hand over the front pocket of his shirt - and the several pens he had aligned there. "Looks like Mr. Secret Agent Man Hotchner is also a closet nerd." She couldn't help but add: "Like me."

"We always knew we were so inherently alike, didn't we?" Hotch watched the expression on her face falter for a second, then bit back his laughter as she snatched one of the pens, uncapped it, and took his hand captive with hers.

Her eyes sparkled as their gazes met. "Don't look, okay?" she asked as she wrote a message on the palm of his hand.

"If you insist," Hotch said, his voice rumbling through his chest as he laughed some more. Obediently, he left his hand palm-down on his thigh, kissing her once more.

"I do," Emily grinned. "And I'm really glad you -"

But she was interrupted.

_"Now boarding Group A on American Airlines flight 116 to Connecticut Bradley International Airport."_

Her heart leaped to her throat; and beside her, the same happened to Hotch. At once, they both glanced down at her boarding pass, though they really didn't need to. They had it near memorized. Which is how they both knew their time was running out faster than they had hoped. Because Emily was in Group B.

"Look, Aaron..." Time was ticking, and that only spurred Emily onward and prompted her to speak her mind - finally. Her dramatic behavior change from light-hearted and airy to beyond serious surprised neither of them. "When I got that phone call, in Russia, the first person I thought about was you." Unconsciously, Hotch's arms tightened around her. They both knew they would have this conversation eventually; it was only a matter of when.

And when the boarding call for Group A was announced once more, they both knew that there would be no better time.

"I felt sick to my stomach," Emily continued, her throat constricting right then and there. "I _love_ you. But this, this means so much to me; not that you don't," she tried explaining, practically delirious. "I hope you don't blame me for leaving. I'm still conflicted about this all, you know that. You know that more than most, actually. I just..." she sniffled, "I just don't want to say goodbye."

His expression softened and threatened to crumble. "Then don't," Hotch said, his reasoning so painfully simple.

"Aaron..."

"Not like that," he corrected instantly, shaking his head. "You know I'd never blame you. You _know_ I respect every single decision you might make, Emily." He rested his forehead against hers. "That's just what happens when you're in love, I guess. But what I mean is...why say 'goodbye' when you should really be saying 'see you soon'?"

Emily's lips curved into a careful smile, unabashed hope running through her veins. "_Are_ we going to see each other soon?"

"That depends."

Their lips were _so_ close. But would Emily even be able to handle another breath-taking kiss? "On?"

"Whether you and your scatterbrained self can remember to call me when you land," Hotch said, the teasing hint to his voice soothing her in the most perfect way. "And in a couple days or...or weeks, when you're all settled in...you let me know, and I'll try my hardest and best to be on the next flight out," he vowed.

Emily hummed to herself quietly, trying her hardest to ignore the boarding call for Group B of American Airlines flight 116 to Connecticut. Slowly, her hand came up to cup his cheek. "I'd like that," she said quietly.

"So would I." When their lips met in a kiss this time, the embrace wasn't so much desperate as it was passionate – passionate, and bittersweet, and glorious. It took the entirety of Hotch's strength to pull back when oxygen became a necessity, but when he did, he didn't let Emily go too far. Instead, Emily remained pressed up against his chest, their bodies fitted together perfectly. "You feel so…right…in my arms," he whispered into her ear. "Have I ever told you that?"

"No," she murmured back, stars still dancing before her eyes. "But better late than never, right?"

He smiled at the sweetness that colored her tone. "Right." The boarding call was echoing throughout the terminal once more, seemingly louder this time, when Hotch remembered. "Oh. Here, I, uh…I got you something for breakfast," he said, pulling a brown paper bag from the inside of his jacket. "I wasn't sure if you would get hungry on the plane, or…"

His voice trailed away.

Emily peered inside the bag with interest; a banana nut muffin, a granola bar, an orange, and just for kicks, a tiny package of espresso beans to keep her awake. She cursed herself as her eyes began to water. "Aaron Hotchner…" she shook her head, "you are the most _thoughtful_ man…"

He indulged her with another handsome smile, his hundredth of the day. "You've only told me that once or twice," he teased. Then: "Per day." His heart swelled as his comments drew from her a delighted, breathy laugh, a laugh that continued until the boarding call for Group B was announced once more.

Wordlessly, both Hotch and Emily rose to their feet, as if drawn forward by some invisible force.

This time, it was Hotch that fell back into serious conversation first. "Listen, Emily…" She reached out for his hands, and he brought them to his lips. "These past four months that we have shared, they've been the best four months of my life. And…" he breathed out a heavy sigh, evidently trying to keep a straight face, "and I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."

Emily was touched. "Aaron, you don't get to thank me if I don't get to thank you."

Hotch's resulting chuckle was affectionate but subdued with the heavy knowledge of what was sure to come. He pinched her cheek and was rewarded with a playful squeal and a swat to his hand. "You've always been a stubborn one, haven't you?"

"Change that 'you' to 'we', and you've got that right." Hotch's warm eyes darkened, then clouded with something that felt too much like sadness. "But seriously…" Emily trembled for a moment, then licked her lips, "you've changed me, Aaron. You've…inspired me." _In so many ways._

"You've made me into a better person." No words were needed; the dark-haired couple was transported back to the night of their first fight – the first of few – when Emily had managed to open Hotch up to her. It wasn't just about the things she had gotten him to talk about, namely how conflicted he felt after fatally shooting the wrong perpetrator, or about the fact that she had gotten him to visibly unwind; it was about the fact that she had _listened_.

It had made him feel worthy.

Hotch was telling her this when one last announcement came over the terminal's PA system.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the final boarding call for American Airlines flight 116 to Connecticut Bradley International Airport."_

Masking her pained gasp with a sudden clearing of her throat, Emily reluctantly uttered the words she had needed to say for the entire morning."I should go," she whispered.

"You should go." As if in a dream about to go horribly wrong, Hotch bent over to help her with her bags; and when she was not looking, he slipped his spare key, adorned with a thin red ribbon, into one of her pockets. The last of flight 116's passengers were rushing toward the gate when their gazes met once more. Emily gave him a grateful twitch of her lips, then sniffled. "Call me," Hotch pleaded.

"I will," Emily swore, her bag of breakfast tucked safely in her carry-on. On Hotch's recently vacated chair, Emily's cup of tea was growing cold. She let it be.

Her eyes were shining with tears as she drew back from what would hopefully not be their last kiss, their last crushing hug. "I'll…see you soon," Emily said, the momentary farewell coming out more like a question.

"Very soon," Hotch assured. She took one single step backward. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Emily's internal emotional struggle was Hotch's as he watched her make her way to the front of the gate, glancing back at him seemingly every other second. Hotch watched her boarding pass and ticket get scanned; and right as she made to enter the jetway, Hotch watched her turn to him and give him a sweet wave.

And as he watched her leave, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever be loved the same way again. But, looking down at the three words Emily had written on the palm of his hand, Hotch knew…somewhere in the cards, he would.

Somewhere in the cards, they would see each other again.

**End of Part One.**

**To Be Continued…**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: There really are no words to describe how great a time I've had writing this story - or rather, Part One of this story. :) I can only hope that you all have enjoyed reading it. Thank you so very much for taking the time to do so. You all have unfailingly made me feel so blessed, and your constant support and feedback has really meant the world to me. If you can, please leave me a review, <em>even if you haven't before.<em> Signed or anonymous, short or long, every little bit counts! **

**Stay tuned for Part Two!**


	23. Part Two: Expect the Unexpected

**Author's Note: Fret no more! _Kiss The Cook _is back, after a necessary recess. I hope you all will be delighted to know that the majority of Part Two is now officially outlined, and while minor things may change, boy, do I have some fluff, romance, drama, angst, and everything in between in store for y'all. Long story short, it's good to be back to writing this story. I thank you all for the amazing outpouring of feedback for the previous chapter; you all are so amazing, and without you, a lot of this wouldn't have been possible.**

**So, here we are, in 2007. Eight or so years after where we left off. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><em><strong>- 2007 -<strong>_

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><p>"Really, darling, you should be thanking me."<p>

Emily simultaneously snorted and rolled her eyes, a talent that cultivated solely when she was around Clyde; a talent that existed _because_ of Clyde, really. "Thanking you?" she echoed with a laugh. "You wrote me a pretty recommendation letter. So what?"

"You were always a grateful one," Clyde grumbled over the phone.

Emily's laughter only increased in volume. "I was the one that did all the work," she pointed out, squeezing her phone between her ear and right shoulder as she flashed her new photo ID to get into the Bureau building. "Besides, have you even sent in said recommendation letter? I called and one of the Bureau receptionists said there was no record of it on file."

"...yes, of course I sent it in," Clyde said; but his tiny second of hesitation gave him away.

"I figured you didn't," she said nonchalantly.

"Hey now, I never said I didn't. And 'pretty' is a bit of an understatement, wouldn't you say? That was the best recommendation letter I've ever written."

"And just how many rec letters have you written?" Emily drawled.

It was Clyde's turn to roll his eyes this time. "You can thank me by coming to dinner with me when you're done for the day," he suggested; and for a moment, his voice was actually serious.

She chuckled under her breath. "Sorry, Clyde," she declined. "Not tonight." And because they thrived on teasing and taunting one another, Emily didn't hesitate to add: "Besides...dinner with you? _Fat chance_."

Clyde huffed impatiently. "Well, I _was_ going to give you the inside scoop on each and every one of your team members, including your boss; but I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself now."

Much to his dismay, Emily didn't take his bait. "Don't sound so smug. I think it'll be fun, meeting people I don't know. Making new friends, forging new relationships."

"Right, because you've always been such a social butterfly," Clyde deadpanned.

Emily pushed through yet another set of heavy doors, walking down a long corridor toward an even longer line of people. "I swear, Clyde, you make me need several extra shots of espresso in my already black coffee. And God awful coffee breath is the last thing I need on my first day in the FBI. The last thing I need _ever_, really."

Clyde just laughed. "Mais...tu m'adores, ma belle," he said, his voice now an octave lower.

Unbidden, Emily was brought back to their days in France. "Mais non, Monsieur. Je suis très désolée."

"Even in French you're so infuriatingly sarcastic," he grumbled.

"But of course." Finally approaching the very front of the line, Emily immediately felt as if all the butterflies in the world were currently in her stomach. "Listen, Clyde, I'm going to have to call you later, maybe tonight. I'm about to go through security, and after that...well, anything and everything is fair game."

Clyde found himself nodding his understanding. "Bonne chance, Emily. We'll talk later."

"Thank you," she said into her phone. Then, stuffing the device into the pocket of her nice, sleek black slacks, Emily flashed her ID once more, stepped through the metal detector...and onto the other side.

Emily couldn't help but smile as she closed in on the glass doors that would bring her to her new future. They were so wonderfully familiar, yet had been so tragically distant - as if she was stepping into a world she had longed to be a part of for much too long. The future couldn't have looked more exciting.

And Emily's adventure was just beginning.

~.~.~

Emily was not surprised to notice she was one of the first people in the bullpen. She made it her job to arrive at least a few minutes early, whenever she was expected.

After all, it only took those few minutes for the _un_expected to happen.

The unexpected...Emily knew a lot about that. As she aimlessly roamed around the bullpen, she couldn't help but reflect on the many years that had brought her to where she was standing now. Sure, she had always loved to cook; but when the opportunity arose for her to follow her real passion of criminology at Yale, her dream school, it had really be a no-brainer. She knew the following semesters would be the hardest she had ever endured, but nevertheless, she had risen to the top of her graduating class; a feat the FBI Academy took much interest in.

Training at the Academy and spending most of her time in the Midwest, Emily hadn't had much time on her own. It was always work, work, work; train, train, train. Her knowledge in six different languages proved immensely useful, and Emily was perfectly content to fall into place as one of the FBI's many translators.

Just when things began to run smoothly, however, a friend from Interpol and a contact from the CIA had reached out to her. After much argument and paperwork, she had been thoroughly briefed for the _most_ unexpected event Emily had ever experienced. Her days, weeks, and months undercover on Valhalla had been both enlightening and horrible, troublesome and bittersweet.

And when the mission was over, Emily found that, for the first time, she was actually able to breathe a sigh of relief. This is what she had signed on for, she reminded herself.

But she was glad it was over.

Because with the end of her short-lived days with JTF-12 came the days she really had been looking forward to for the greater part of her life. The days when she would become a true agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Passing by the wall of fallen agents, Emily continued forward, smiling tinily to herself as she ascended the stairs that led to the catwalk.

She was _finally_ there.

Leaning back against the banister as she stared out the window, Emily let her mind wander for the first time in much too long. The BAU...something about it made a thought niggle at the back of her mind, and not even a second had passed before Emily correctly guessed just what the thought was about.

Aaron Hotchner. Just his name made her skin hum with delight. Sure, they had been separated by too many miles for eight going on nine years; but she had never forgotten about him. How could she, when no other man in her life had ever come close to comparing with him? Even Clyde...she rather liked their friends with benefits relationship, but she had been clear that it was nothing but that, and Clyde had been equally as adamant.

Even Clyde couldn't compare. Emily was certain that no other man would ever make her feel the same way Aaron had. And, frankly, that made her a little chagrined. Still staring out onto the expanse of trees, grass, and concrete below, Emily continued wondering about him. he had worked at the BAU all those years ago; it had been he who gave her her first tour around the building.

So where was he now? She doubted he still worked for the BAU; maybe another branch of the Bureau, but to have the same job for that long? Emily figured he wasn't that kind of man.

But just as soon as the thought ran through her mind, a low, smooth, and delightfully familiar voice resounded from directly behind her. She had been so lost in thought that she hadn't heard anyone approach.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

In a fraction of a heartbeat, Emily's eyes widened in surprise, and she gasped, whirling around the face the man that had just spoken. The second of silence that lapsed between them seemed to last forever; until Emily managed to speak, albeit in a breathy whisper.

"Oh my God, Aaron."

His dark hazel eyes shone with immediate recognition, and he, too, let out a gasp. _"Emily?"_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Short, I know, but that was just a little taste of what's to come. :) Please don't hesitate to leave a review! I love and always will love hearing what you think. No account needed!<strong>

**Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	24. A Perfect Mixup

**Author's Note: Wow, I am so unbelievably grateful and indebted to all of you. The flood of feedback I got for the past chapter...you all are incredible, and yes, I am speechless. There are no words that will suffice, not even _thank you,_ because that's just too simple. Hopefully this next installment will be the perfect kind of payback. :)_  
><em>**

**Little timeline change: Since Hotch has Jack and is already divorced, Gideon has already left the team; which means Emily comes into the picture later than she does on _Criminal Minds_. Hope this clears a couple things up!**

**As always, thank you so very much for reading. I sincerely hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><em>"Emily?"<em>

A second of absolute silence lapsed between them; and then, she was in his arms. Their hug was modest enough, but it was the undertones to their embrace that made the moment that much more special. The _'how have you been'_s and the _'I've missed you'_s remained unsaid for the meantime. Instead, they let their hearts do the speaking.

Hotch smiled his first real smile in much too long, his face buried in her hair for but a second before pulling back to gaze deep into her chocolate brown eyes. It was just as he remembered, the gratifying feeling of having Emily back in his arms. He hadn't realized until now just how greatly his yearning for that feeling had augmented over the past eight - or had it been nine? - years.

Realizing he had been quiet for longer than he should have, Hotch gave her yet another pleasantly surprised smile. "Wow, Emily..." he breathed, "what are you doing here?"

Emily's eyes shone in the early morning light. "I'm, uh, supposed to meet my new boss." She fished in her bag for a manila folder, but froze before she could find it. She gasped. "Oh my God, my new boss is you!" She shook her head incredulously, searching his gaze for confirmation. "My old boss, Clyde Easter, was supposed to give me this information beforehand, but..." Her voice trailed away.

Hotch's mind was spinning; and _not_ in a bad way. "I just recently put in a request to hire a new agent for my team, but I was supposed to receive a letter of recommendation, and it never came." Emily snorted. "Oh, I had no idea it would be you." _Though I'm so glad it is. _His face lit up. "But this is great! You finally made it to your dream job."

"I did," Emily said softly, nodding. His words niggled something loose from the back of her mind; _"__Keep your mind open. Rock all of your courses and get into the FBI Academy; I know you've wanted to for forever. And then, who knows? Maybe, one of these days, you'll run into Aaron in the field - and everything would be back to normal. How's that for a future?"_ A smile curved her lips at the memory.

And Hotch noticed. "What are you thinking about?" he asked, and his voice was so wonderfully smooth.

"You reminded me of something Sean said to me before I left," she revealed. "Speaking of which, how is he? Connecticut and New York weren't close enough for me to coincidentally run into him." _Or you,_ she added tinily, regretfully. _DC was too far away as well._

"He's good, thanks," Hotch said; it was his turn to nod now. "I haven't seen him in a couple months, but we make sure to keep in touch." As more and more people began to flood the bullpen in an early Monday morning rush, Hotch cocked his head farther down the catwalk. "Why don't we move this to my office? It's quieter there, and I'm sure you want to be able to set your belongings down."

"That would be great, thank you." Finally able to settle in, Emily let Hotch guide her into the large enough, minimalistic room. It was when they were both seated that Hotch broke the silence once more.

His handsome hazel eyes bore into hers. "It is so good to see you," he said warmly, almost...affectionately.

A familiar thrill ran through her body. "It's good to see you, too. Really good. I missed you," Emily confessed.

"You're not the only one." Hotch leaned forward in his desk chair. "I missed you more than I can describe."

"You were impossible to get off my mind," she whispered. And that was when Hotch noticed it.

A sliver of what looked like red jade peeked out from behind Emily's black blouse. Hotch recognized its gold chain immediately; and when she shifted slightly, he knew she was wearing exactly what he thought she was.

"You're wearing the necklace I gave you."

Was that breathlessness she heard in Aaron Hotchner's voice? Whatever it was, it only served to widen Emily's smile. "Oh, I...I wear it everywhere, Aaron."

_Aaron._ "The last time I saw you wear it was...when we were at the airport." He let out a small sigh. "To know that you've kept it all these years..."

She arched a manicured eyebrow and was instantly the sassy and sultry Emily Prentiss he had known - and loved. "Why wouldn't I keep it?"

The air in the room grew thick with intimacy. Hotch swallowed thickly, his fingers aching to touch her, hold her. "Emily, I..." But he was soon interrupted by an authoritative knock on the door.

Both Hotch and Emily stood when Erin Strauss strode through the door. "Good, I see you two have already gotten acquainted," she said, after brief greetings to both of them.

"Actually, Agent Prentiss and I knew each other previously," Hotch said, catching Emily's eye discreetly. _Oh, we'd known each other before, alright_, he thought._ In a variety of ways. _

"Did you now? How interesting."

"Yes. I actually used to work with his brother, Sean," Emily said, smiling politely; though Hotch noticed it didn't quite meet her eyes. He knew her well enough to suspect she disliked the woman and her politicking already.

"Well, then. I'm sure Agent Hotchner will brief you on the most recent case, show you around, make the necessary introductions," Strauss said pointedly. Hotch nodded; and with a short _"good luck"_ to Emily, the woman left the office, closing the door behind her.

A beat of silence passed.

And then, Hotch smiled. "So...catch me up on the past eight years," he said invitingly. He knew from the expression on her beautiful face that she was still reminiscing their many loving nights.

He was, too.

Finally, Emily blinked out of the haze. "Eight years," she whistled. "Has it really been that long?"

"I'm afraid so." Hotch would've made to sit back down, but a single glance out into the bullpen changed his mind. "Tell you what: how about I take you out to dinner tonight? We could talk there, have more time to ourselves."

"I think I'd like that," she breathed, her rosy lips curved upwards at the sides.

"I think I would, too." He spared a quick squeeze of hers holder and run of his fingers along her back before motioning to the door. "For now, I want to introduce you to the team."

~.~.~

"Who's the pretty brunette?" were the first words out of Garcia's mouth when she joined the others in the conference room that morning.

Hotch bit back his amused smile. "Everyone," he said, when they had quieted down, "this is Emily Prentiss." She gave a little wave. "Effective immediately, she will be joining our team as a new agent of the BAU."

Morgan was the first to shake her hand and engage her in small talk that was meant to assure her she was welcome in their clearly tight-knit family. Perhaps he had the inkling she would be his new partner in the field; but regardless, there was something about the woman that drew him in - that drew everyone in. Her smile, maybe.

The girls were next, JJ and Garcia, and within seconds, the three of them were busy chattering away; almost as if Emily had been their sister separated at birth. "It's good to have a woman in the field," JJ said decisively, Garcia quick to nod her agreement.

A tall, lanky young man in the corner was perhaps the most reserved when Emily approached him. Dr. Spencer Reid, he introduced himself as; and Emily found herself squinting, wondering just how old - or _young_, rather - the kind Doctor was. Too young to have gotten a PhD, that was for sure.

...let alone three, as Hotch would later inform her.

David Rossi was the last to reach her, and when he finally did, it was with a spark of good-natured mischief in his eyes. "Emily Prentiss," he mused aloud. "I thought I recognized you. It's your smile; it's impossible to forget." He gave her a charming smile of his own. "We've met before, haven't we?"

"Yes, sir. Back in ninety-eight," Emily said with a nod.

"Ah, yes, that's the year."

"'Back in ninety-eight'?" Reid quoted, voicing the question on the others' minds.

"Emily visited our very bullpen a little over eight years ago," Rossi explained. "Back when Hotch here was nothing but a young agent like all of you." His grin widened at the memories. "In fact -"

"Agent Prentiss has been interested in the behavioral sciences for a very long time, is what Dave is basically trying to say," Hotch interrupted.

"Basically," Rossi said, catching Hotch's pointed gaze.

The team members were dispersing to their respective desks when Emily sidled up next to Hotch. "Aar - I mean, Hotch. Could I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course." He led her to a quieter corner of the fast-emptying room. "What's on your mind?" She was quiet. "Is this about Dave?"

That garnered a reaction. "No...well, kind of. Aaron, he's the only one on the team who knows about you and I, in the past. And he's a wonderful man, I know that much; but people talk," she said simply. She smiled slightly. "You know I've never been one to care for what people think of me. But...I've worked very hard and fought through a lot of less than pleasant situations to get where I am today." Emily thought of Doyle and shivered. "I...Aaron, I don't want people to think I got my job by sleeping with the boss," she whispered.

Hotch's expression was nothing but soft, caring, and understanding. "You don't have to worry about that," he promised her. "I'll talk to him; I'll make sure everything's okay."

Emily's smile grew. "I know you will. I've always trusted you, you know."

"As I have always trusted you." Something in his expression changed, for the better. "Are we still on for dinner?"

"Without a doubt."

Emily was making to leave, to join her new team members and friends, when a hand reached out and held her back. Her gaze sought Hotch's as his fingers curled around her wrist, stroking the sensitive skin there. "Hey, uh..." There were so many things he wanted to tell her, to ask her, to share with her; but a quick assessment told him they could all wait until later. He gave a handsome, almost sheepish smile, then shook his head. "Never mind." Hotch didn't need to see the slight flush on Emily's cheeks to be sure of one thing.

He wasn't the only one unspeakably excited for dinner.

~.~.~

"I can't believe you're not married and surrounded by kids."

"Still a gentleman, I see." Running a finger over the rim of her wine glass, Emily let out a hearty laugh. "But Aaron...what makes you think I'd be so domestic?" she countered, tilting her head to the side as she gazed at him. He looked magnificent in his suit...but Emily had always known that.

"I'm a profiler, remember?" Hotch joked, then shrugged. "I don't know. I just have this _feeling_ that you'd be a wonderful mother."

"That's sweet of you to say," she murmured, her cheeks heating. "But no...no kids for me yet. You?"

There was a long, awkward pause.

Almost choking on her dinner, Emily shot a quick glance at Hotch's left hand, his breathing somewhat steadying when she noticed there was no ring on his finger. But there was a slight discoloration there...a band of lighter skin. She cleared her throat at the same time Hotch cleared his.

"I have a son," he said finally; and he couldn't help but feel ashamed that he couldn't quite meet Emily's gaze. "Jack."

If there was one thing Emily had learned from her mother, it was how to school her expressions. "Oh, that's nice -"

"I'm recently divorced, Emily." Thinking it over, Hotch didn't really know why he had said that; it was obvious enough, seeing as he wasn't wearing his ring. But the way he had said it, the way he had told her...it was almost like an offer. Though both of them knew there were no expectations for the night.

Emily reached out to briefly touch his hand. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said in earnest, her eyes wide with sympathy.

But he shook his head. "Don't be. It wouldn't have worked out in the end, anyway." Not knowing what else to say, or how else to remedy the now awkward atmosphere surrounding them, Hotch focused his attention on his dinner, the delicious lemon shrimp fettuccine Emily had recommended. He had barely touched it.

"Do you have a picture of Jack with you?" Emily smiled at the resulting look of grateful surprise on Hotch's face.

"I...yes, I do." Pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his black slacks, he opened it up and displayed his favorite portrait of his son. "I have more on my phone, but I'd have to say, this picture is my favorite." Hotch gave a rueful little smile. "He may only be three years old, but those three years...God, they've flown by."

Emily fingered the edge of the picture, her expression warm as she gazed at the sweet little boy. "He's very handsome," she said. "Handsome like his father."

While Emily gazed at the photo of Jack, Hotch gazed at her instead, drinking her in. She was just as beautiful as he remembered; no, _more_ beautiful. The eight years they had been apart had treated her well, he noticed.

Not for the first time, he began to wonder about Emily's other boyfriends. He wondered if she had been able to find someone whose company she enjoyed being in every day; and the thought that maybe she had made Hotch's stomach lurched. _It's completely unrealistic_, he rebuked himself. _Eight years is a very long time; there's no way she was holding out for you, Hotchner. Just because you were in love once doesn't mean that same love lasted the span of your separation._

Emily would soon prove him wrong, however. Debating just how she wanted to phrase her next question, she let out a soft sigh. It was none of her business...but she had always been the curious type. Returning his son's picture, Emily deliberately brushed her fingers against Hotch's as he took his wallet back. Their gazes met, and Hotch could see the uncertainty dancing behind her big, beautiful eyes. "May I...may I ask why you got a divorce?"

Hotch bit down on his bottom lip. He had known she would ask this question; and in the end, he had also known that he wouldn't be able to lie to her. He guessed she had the slightest suspicion as to his reasoning...but he couldn't be sure, and he was desperate to know how she would react.

She fumbled with the fork and knife lying on the table before her. "Never mind, I...it's really not my place to ask, I'm sorry -"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

That caught Emily off guard. A familiar spark shot through her heart as she took in the intensity in his dark gaze. She swallowed. "If you want to tell me," she responded reasonably; though she was holding her breath as she waited for his answer. _Can it be?_ she wondered. _Could he possibly have felt the same way I did with every man I crossed paths with? But he got married. Surely that means he -_

The clink of Hotch's wine glass against the ceramic-tiled table jolted her to the present. Again, Hotch's eyes locked onto hers; and even if she had wanted to, she wouldn't have been able to look away. "Quite frankly?" he murmured, but his voice was astoundingly clear. "I knew it wouldn't work out in the end because...

...Haley wasn't you."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Ooooh, cliffhanger. Well, not really. But you all should know by now that I like my suspense. ;) How about you? Did you l<strong>ike it? Did you maybe even love it? Please make sure to leave a few words in review! Your feedback has always been and will always be wonderful inspiration and motivation for me. Thank you in advance!<strong>**


	25. Stradivarius

**Author's Note: ****I'm so grateful for your kind, positive words to me regarding the last chapter. It makes me happy to see you all enjoyed the ending; I've had that one dialogue exchange outlined and written out since I first started writing this story. :)**

**I'm sure many of you have noticed the recent rating change of _Kiss The Cook _from T to M. Just to answer any questions you all might have, this is solely for the purpose that I adhere to FFN's recently reinforced guidelines. The content of this story won't exactly shift into a new…dimension or anything. That being said, the later part of this chapter will be somewhat mature. ;)**

**As always, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter** **One!**

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><p><em>"Quite frankly? I knew it wouldn't work out in the end because...Haley wasn't you."<em>

Emily had figured that would be his answer, but she still felt her breath catch at the back of her throat. So her suppositions had been correct; Hotch still had feelings for her, just as she still had feelings for him. Unabashed hope began to warm her body. Eight years was a long time, a _very_ long time. But for them? It hadn't been long enough to absolve their heart's basic desires; and for that, Emily was unbelievably grateful.

But where did his admission put them? _Does this mean Hotch wants to rekindle the romance we once had?_ Emily asked herself, her heart racing. _Surely he does; or else he wouldn't have answered me in the way he just did_.

_Right?_

Carefully, Emily brought her gaze up to meet his, her eyes shining with a certain mysterious emotion she wasn't surprised to see in Hotch's darkened hazel orbs as well. She didn't know how to answer him. She didn't know if she could; her throat was so constricted. For a moment, she almost forgot how to breathe. It had been too long since she had felt this way; so incredibly head over heels. As Emily took stock of her condition, she found that she had missed the feeling. She had missed the way a single glance from Hotch - from _Aaron _- could send shivers of desire down her spine, the way she melted in his arms with a single kiss, the way he made her feel so...complete.

She wanted that now. She wanted that more than anything.

But she had been quiet for too long, and Hotch was beginning to get antsy. Dropping his gaze to his dinner, he gave an awkward half-smile. "I-I'm sorry," he murmured. "I pushed too far, didn't I? I just -"

Emily's head shot up. "No...no, no, no, you didn't push too far," she said immediately, reaching around her glass of wine to touch his upturned hand. "Not at all. Aaron...to be honest, what you just said...it's been the same for me. Eight years is quite the long time. But every time I went to a bar, or met up with a guy some friend recommended...I always ended up comparing the men to you." Her head fell to the side when he gave her hand a squeeze. "And trust me; none of them _could_ compare. You were always handsomer, sweeter, funnier...more gentlemanly and more chivalrous." An endearing chuckle passed her lips. "Whoever said chivalry is dead obviously never met you."

Slowly, Hotch brought Emily's hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her palm, then to each finger. When he spoke, his voice was low and rumbling, and he still didn't quite meet her inquisitive gaze. "Haley...she was the only one. I mean, I didn't - there wasn't anyone else. I-I couldn't." He scoffed a little at himself, then ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He was the head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI; he had chased down, interrogated, and put away the nation's worst criminals without even batting an eye. But here he was, stuttering and tripping over his words like an ordinary fool; all because of the extraordinary woman seated before him.

In the way that she always had, all those years ago, Emily expertly noticed the conflict raging inside of him. Gently, she tilted his head up with a single finger, leaning forward so that he had no choice but to look straight at her. "You don't have to explain yourself, Aaron," she said softly. She tugged on the chain of her necklace, then reached out to show him the red jade pendant. "You see this? 'Independence'," she said pointedly. "We're each our own person, with our own lives, our own decisions. What matters now is that our paths have crossed once more, eight years after the fact. The past is the past."

Finally, Hotch smiled, and it was a genuine one at that. "I know. I just haven't thought about this is a very long time, and now that I am...I hate that we never _really _saw each other after you got on that plane."

"Me, too." Emily's voice was a whisper. "We saw each other twice -"

_"Twice." _

"- but it wasn't enough." Emily remembered the fit of desperation they both had been in as they raced to Emily's Connecticut apartment. They had barely got inside before Hotch had her pressed up against her door, her leg wrapped high up on his waist, her hands in his hair, her lips on his neck, and -

Hotch picked at his food, then smiled a little before feeding Emily a bite of his fettuccine. Her resulting laughter was all he needed to soothe his conscience. "I really did think we would be able to make it work," he said after a beat; and his tone was conversational, light. Curious.

"I hoped it would." Silently, she finished what little of her dinner remained, relishing in the comfortable silence that wrapped them into its embrace. "I missed you, Aaron."

"I missed you, too." And God, he really had. It had been unbearable some nights, waking up without his Emily in his arms. It had felt so wrong.

Once again, Emily fidgeted with the necklace she was still wearing; the necklace he had given her for her birthday. "You know...this necklace isn't the only thing of yours I kept."

Hotch gazed at her intently, lazily stroking her cheek as she spoke. "Oh, really? What do you mean?"

Her cheeks reddened just slightly; so slightly that, for a second, Hotch thought he was imagining it. _So Emily Prentiss still blushes at the things I say,_ he noted with an amused tilt of his lips. For some reason, that revelation made him unspeakably happy. Maybe, just maybe...things would be the same between them.

"Your key," Emily said finally. "Your spare key; I kept it, too. I didn't even know you had slipped into my pocket. But when I landed in Connecticut and found a quaint little place to eat lunch...I was looking for some spare change, and instead, I found a key. That was sweet of you, Aaron. It made me smile."

She deliberately left out that seeing his spare key in her empty palm had also reduced her to tears.

"I almost forgot about that," he admitted, and Hotch couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed at the fact that his voice was so breathless. "I wasn't sure if you'd find it, to be honest. I..." He brushed his thumb along her cupid's bow. "I'm glad it was able to put a smile on your beautiful face."

Before Emily could even take stock of what was happening, Hotch had guided her into a tender kiss. It was a risky move; at least, that's what Hotch believed. He hadn't known if that was what she wanted, or if they were back at _that_ place. He hadn't been sure - he couldn't have been sure - that she was ready to pick up from where they left off. But he kissed her anyway.

And he was glad he did. Because, while he was doing all the unnecessary thinking, Emily was just kissing him, and it was _so_ good. _Too_ good. Her soft, supple lips felt amazing beneath his; molding together in a passionate dance they had long since perfected. It made him want her all the more; it made him crave the eight years they had allowed to slip past. Oh, the things they could have done...

Her voice husky, Emily surprised Hotch by breaking the kiss; but only to say one line. "I can hear you thinking, Aaron," she murmured against his skin, before moving her lips to his jaw. She couldn't care less that they were in public. The restaurant itself was nice and quiet, and the two of them had chosen a booth in the very back of the place, tucked away from the masses. No one could hear them; no one could see them.

They were in their own little world.

Hotch breathed out a laugh into Emily's dark, fragrant hair. "You always could. Looks like some things never change." Slowly, reluctantly, he drew back, his gaze never once leaving hers. He motioned to their food with a flick of his wrist. "Do you want to...order dessert?"

_"So, Chef Prentiss...are you ready to open your gift now?"_

_"Mmmm, that's a good question. I did say after dinner...but maybe I was including dessert in there, too. What do you think? Do you want dessert first?"_

_"Depends on what's for_ dessert._"_

In a heartbeat, Emily was brought back to the first time they had made love. They had been in her apartment, standing in the kitchen; and their dialogue had been strikingly similar to their current exchange. She wondered if Hotch was remembering the same thing; the way his eyes had darkened as he had pressed her up against the cold refrigerator surface, the way he had teased her until she was begging him to finish her off - in so many different ways.

"No, thank you," Emily eventually said, her voice still thick with unresolved desire. Their conversation from eight years ago still played on a loop in her head. "I'm stuffed," she laughed.

Even as she was talking, Hotch had already waved their waiter over, signaling for the check. "You sure?" His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, it seemed like he was reading her mind. "We could always get something to-go."

"Really, Aaron. I'm good." A beat passed. "Unless _you_ want to get something."

"No…no, I think I'll be fine." _For now_. Hotch chuckled to himself as Emily tried to grab the check from his hands, to no avail. She was forced to settle with a pout as she watched him reach for his wallet and pay for their dinner. Even as she was playfully rolling her eyes, Emily was thinking that he hadn't changed one bit in the past eight years; he was still every bit a gentleman as he had been then.

She was glad he was.

Finally, Hotch stood, then helped Emily out of her chair, his arm immediately curling around her waist. They were standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant's main entrance when he kissed her once more. "You look beautiful, by the way," he murmured against her skin. "I don't think I told you that yet."

"You didn't," Emily whispered, craning her neck to reach his lips, and moaning disappointedly when he deliberately moved away. "You're losing your touch, Hotchner."

"Am I? Well, we can't have that, can we?" He motioned in front of them, vaguely. "How'd you get here?"

"I took a cab," she said, peering down the street.

Hotch reached into his pocket for his car keys. "I can drive you home, if you'd like. It would save you the money, and...well, it would be safer," he added on quickly.

"I'd like that," Emily nodded. And then she smiled. "I retract my earlier statement; you're _slowly but surely_ regaining your touch."

His rumbling laughter caught Emily right in the middle of her chest. "I'm glad."

~.~.~

But Hotch wasn't content with 'slowly but surely'. By the end of the night, he was determined to prove that he _hadn't_ lost his touch - in more ways than one.

Neither he nor Emily had planned for him to come up to her apartment after he had dropped her off, but Emily liked his company too much and she didn't want to be rude; he had paid for dinner and driven her home, after all. The least she could do was offer him a nice strong cup of coffee. He had always liked the way she brewed it; dark, rich, and absolutely delicious. She knew just how much sugar he wanted, at any given time.

She _always _knew what he wanted.

It was unexpected, really. One minute Emily had been washing two cups for coffee and talking about how she hadn't cooked anything in much too long...and the next minute, she had turned around to find Hotch standing right behind her, his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers. A single wary step forward had brought her into his arms. The air was charged with desire when their lips met for what had to have been the hundredth time that day. It was crazed, the way they clawed at each other's clothing, desperate to feel the other's skin against theirs. It took all of Hotch's might to refrain from taking her right there, right against the kitchen counter. She deserved better, that much he knew.

Within a heartbeat, he had lifted her into his arms and was carrying her off to her bedroom. Her legs wrapped like a vice around his narrow waist, her hands fisted in his hair and around his neck, her eyes glazed over -

She looked magnificent. Hotch bit back his groan as he gazed at her, drinking her in; the pale skin, dusky rose-tipped nipples that seemed to be beckoning him forward, swollen glossy red lips, mussed ebony hair. He knew all about self-control and restraint, for it was one of the many lessons he'd had to learn to become a negotiator and agent for the FBI. But in an instant, everything he knew about holding back escaped him.

He pounced on her like a lion on its prey, his heart swelling with an overwhelming surge of male pride at her bright resulting laughter. A grin seemed to settle permanently on his face. How could he be anything but happy when she was laid out beneath him, pulling him further into her spell with every smile, sigh, and ministration she had to offer.

"Aaron," Emily breathed, her eyes fluttering closed as he played her body like the maestro he was. He was a masterful violinist, she was his Stradivarius. Every caress of his fingers against the sensitive curves of her lithe frame sent her closer to careening over the edge of paradise. She knew what he was doing; taking his time to relearn what made her scream, what made her moan, what made her even more desperate and needy than she already was.

He wanted to drive her crazy, then pull her back to reality. He wanted to complete her. _She _wanted him to complete her.

Slowly, she arched her back so that her hips brushed impatiently against his. "Aaron, please..." Emily gasped as he mouthed at the valley between her breasts. _"Aaron, oh my God -"_

"So vocal," Hotch praised, nibbling the underside of a breast and grazing its nipple with his teeth. "Mmmmm, Emily..."

_"Please."_

He smiled. "Please what?" Before she could discern where his hands had disappeared to, Emily let out a scream of delight as his fingers spread apart her searing hot folds. "Tell me, Emily. Tell me, sweetheart." Her fingernails dug into his back. "Tell me!"

_"Take me!"_ A keening moan rattled around in the back of Emily's throat as she felt Hotch push into, making them one. She had missed the way they felt together more than anything in the world; only he had been able to make her feel so wonderfully whole. Hotch waited for her breathing to even out before he began to move, and he wasn't surprised when he felt Emily's lips at his ear as she whispered one more gentle query. "Make love to me, Aaron."

Again, Hotch felt his heart go into overdrive. Briefly, he wondered if she had asked any other man to do the same in the throes of passion, and if any other man had succeeded in making her feel the way she truly deserved to feel. He supposed so. But there was something about the way she had said it...her voice was husky, wanton, and maybe...maybe even a little bit broken.

Broken?

Their gazes met; and at the unadulterated emotion and affection he saw in Emily's eyes, Hotch's mind continued running circles. As he held her to him, he couldn't help but vow that he would find out what had happened to her in the eight years they had been apart. He didn't know why he wanted to; he didn't even know if there was anything to find. But he had the strangest feeling something magnanimous had happened. And if it was affecting her as much as he thought it was...then, he wanted to help her through it.

Because, even if a hundred years had lapsed between them, Hotch knew - he would never have fallen out of love with her.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong><strong>Thoughts? Questions? Advice? <strong>If you have the time, please leave a review! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day! :) Thank you in advance!<strong>******


	26. Slow and Steady

**Author's Note: Yet another somewhat short chapter to get the ball rolling. I have a lot in store for this fic, and I hope you'll bear with me until things really start picking up; which should be in either next chapter or the one after that! Prepare yourself for drama, my friends. Lots of it. ;) Until then, I want to thank you so much for taking the time to read and review! I'm sorry for the long wait between updates, but I do hope you'll enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Emily hadn't felt this satisfied in a very long time. And she knew why she was feeling it now. Smiling to herself, she snuggled further into Hotch's gentle embrace. She would've been content and willing to stay there forever.<p>

But Hotch had other plans.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked groggily, her voice deliciously husky.

Hotch chuckled to himself. "Out of bed. We've got to get up for work, remember? And unless you happen to have a different tie for me to wear - or a different suit, for that matter - I'm going to have to leave your place with enough time to stop by mine."

She snorted. "Are you always this analytical in the morning?"

That earned her a smile. "Yes. Now get out of bed, sleepyhead," Hotch said, wrapping his arms around her bare waist and hoisting her up into a sitting position. "You don't want to be late."

"Yes, sir," Emily drawled.

Try as he might to prevent it, Hotch's smile slowly faded; and Emily noticed, even though he was now an expert at masking his emotions. Internally slapping herself for her choice of words, she let out a small sigh then cleared her throat. "So, um..." she began conversationally, "isn't this kind of fraternization...frowned upon?"

Carefully donning his outfit from the night before, Hotch gave a curt, concise nod. "Yes."

There was a pregnant pause, and for the first time ever, Emily found herself doubting something they had done. She was suddenly disconcerted; had they moved too quickly? Were they rushing things? Or...did he feel like they were? A million thoughts continued running through her head at break-neck speeds when she heard Hotch speak. His voice was quiet, as if he was talking for his own ears only.

"Strauss can_not_ find out."

Of course. Emily nodded slowly, though inside, she felt like letting out a scream. She had only been with the BAU for one day, yet she was already in deep shit. She cringed; she didn't want to have to make this decision for a second time, the decision between her job and Hotch. Before she even knew what she was doing, a few choice words had slipped past her lips. "If this progresses...I don't want to hide it like some illicit office affair."

It was an argument she was familiar with, though the last time she'd had it, she had been on the opposite side, with Clyde telling her he was tired of keeping _them_ a secret. They had eventually slipped into the friends-with-benefits stage that they had managed to uphold to the present, but Emily couldn't help but remember a time when she, too, had wanted something...more. Something they could've had, once.

Emily didn't want the same thing to happen to her and Hotch. Again, she wanted more; and she guessed he did, too. Already exhausted, Emily huffed. She had always had a thing for her bosses.

Caught off guard, Hotch thought of what Emily had said just yesterday: _"I don't want people to think I got my job by sleeping with the boss." _He frowned. "'If'?" he quoted. "An illicit office affair...is that what you think this is?"

He regretted his words the moment he saw the look on Emily's face. "I'm..." his expression softened, and he hung his head a little, "I'm sorry. C'mere," he murmured, holding his arms out for her.

Emily knew from past experience that she couldn't stay mad at him for more than a minute; he had always been too good to her. So she took a step forward...and another, and another, until he had her back in his arms and was kissing her with a subdued passion she wanted to stoke.

"It is whatever you make it out to be," Emily finally answered, against her lover's lips. "You're the boss, after all."

Hotch's lips curved at the subtle sauciness he heard in Emily's tone, but he was instantly serious once more. "We have to keep it under wraps for now," he said, putting emphasis on the _'for now'._ "But, honestly, Emily...I never want to let you go again. I do want to pick up where we left off. If...that's what you want as well."

A tiny voice in the back of her head was telling her she had worked too hard to give everything up for an office fling, but Emily ignored it, because what they had was not a simple fling, nor would it ever be one. This was _Aaron_, for God's sake. He was worth any risk. That much Emily had learned in her eight years away.

"I do," she said with a smile. "I think we should maybe slow down a little, at least until things settle. But I do want this."

"One thing, though," Hotch said, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear. "Where are we? Can I at least ask you out on a date?"

"Absolutely. Though...wouldn't last night count as a date?" Her smile turned dreamy. "You took me out to dinner, paid the check - even though I _insisted_ I'd pay for myself."

Hotch smirked. "Oh, Emily," he admonished playfully. "You obviously don't know me well enough. I never let a lady pay for her food."

She indulged him with a rolling of her expressive brown eyes. "How chauvinistic of you."

"I'm going to pretend you said chivalrous."

~.~.~

Hotch was not at all surprised to find Rossi waiting in his office after they broke for a quick lunch. He wasn't surprised to find Rossi gazing out the window at Emily, either.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you're not here to share your thoughts on our newest case," Hotch deadpanned.

"Perceptive," Rossi cracked, chuckling under his breath. Silently, he watched as Emily and JJ, huddled close together like the best of friends, laughed at something Morgan had said. "She fits in easily here," he remarked finally.

Hotch carefully hid the twitch of his lips. "She does," he agreed.

Silence lapsed between them.

Soon, it was Hotch's turn to cave in. "It's not like that, Dave," he said drolly, with a sidelong glance to the older man. "Really."

"Uh huh." Rossi snorted disbelievingly. "She hasn't worked here two full days yet you've already taken to staring at her when you're so sure no one will notice."

Hotch groaned. "Have I really?"

He nodded. "Absolutely," he smiled. "So. Are you two back together yet, or what?"

"You remind me of Sean," Hotch droned impassively.

"That wasn't an answer."

"Yes," Hotch said, but his voice wavered. "I mean, I don't know. I think we are; or at least, I know we're getting there."

"I'm glad," Rossi said approvingly. "She's good for you, I can tell."

"But, Dave...you cannot mention this even in passing to anyone. I know you would never, but I have to say it anyway, you know? I can't - _we_ can't - chance anyone blabbing to corporate. IAB is the last thing we, meaning the team as a whole, need on our asses."

"Of course." Rossi smiled knowingly; after all, he had been there and done that a multitude of times. Finally, the pair drew away from the window and settled into various office chairs. "Eight years," he whistled. "That is a _long_ time."

"You're telling me." Hotch let an awkward laugh quickly slip past. "It is. Oh, it really is."

"A lot of things can happen in one year, let alone eight." Rossi paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Does she know about...Haley? And Jack?"

"She does," Hotch confirmed, his voice quieter than before. "I told her about them last night - I mean, uh, yesterday." He pointedly ignored his friend's smirk at his telltale slip-up. "Emily had her fair share of questions, which is understandable." Suddenly, Hotch was biting back a smile. "She's always been a curious one."

"Speaking of questions, Aaron," Rossi interjected, "what are you going to do when the team has some of their own? You told them yourself that you and Emily had been 'previously acquainted'. Sooner or later, the puzzle pieces will start coming together in their minds."

"Let them ask," Hotch said simply. "Whether I'll answer them is another story entirely. We all have that one private aspect of our lives that we fight to keep separated from the job. Morgan has his property, Garcia as her plays, you have your hunting and that cabin of yours in Commack. For me...well, I have my family."

Rossi's eyes glinted with curiosity and a hint of mischief. "Do you consider Emily to be part of your family?"

_Damn it, Hotchner._ "No," he said much too quickly. "But...I...I mean..."

Rossi held a hand up, sparing him. "Forget I asked. You want to keep this to yourself. Believe me, I get it." He watched as Hotch slumped back in his chair, only slightly deflated. "But do you think Emily feels the same way?"

"Yes." This time, when he answered quickly, it was because he truly believed the answer in his heart. "But even if she doesn't," he said for the sake of it, "she's a grown woman. I wouldn't want to make decisions for her." The two men's gazes met. "Emily, she...she has this necklace she likes to wear. The pendant is the Chinese character for 'independence'. It's very fitting, if you ask me," he said fondly.

"You're the one who gave her the necklace," Rossi guessed.

Hotch felt his cheeks warm with a faint flush. "Yes," he murmured. "I was."

"Then I must say," Rossi mused aloud. "Emily Prentiss might be an independent, free spirit. But the fact that she's still wearing your necklace, eight years later? That's loyalty. That's faithfulness."

Hotch couldn't hold back his smile; and he didn't want to. _That's love._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Please drop me a line telling me what you think! I always love reading your feedback. Is there anything you'd like to see in the upcoming chapters? Please let me know! I'm anxious to hear from you. <strong>**As always, thank you so very much for your time and dedication. :)**

**Also, with review #500 fast approaching (you guys are _amazing_), I'd love to express my gratitude in a very special way. So, you guessed it: reviewer #500 gets a oneshot written for the prompt of their choice! **


	27. Mystify, Mislead, and Surprise

**Author's Note: I just want to take a minute and thank you all for your overwhelming love and support. I feel so bad that I couldn't get back to each and everyone of you individually; but to _VeniVediVici, ncis4ever21, xCuteWithoutThe.E, Dunideen, limegreensoxs, Danzjaron, HPforever-after, greengirl82, HGRHfan35, ladybugsmomma, CrimStudent47, AllieDJ, sarahb2007, raffinit, Speetsy, Emilyhotchnerforever, MeGkAtHeRiNe, ankCM, stewhearts, charleantheresas, yacriminalminds, KalibraH24_ - and really, all of my readers and anonymous reviewers, I am so grateful. This little shout-out doesn't do you justice. But I hope this upcoming chapter will. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Slowly but surely, Emily was beginning to understand why fraternization in the workplace was so frowned upon.<p>

It wasn't as if there had been much _fraternizing_ lately anyway, Emily noted wryly, but nonetheless, she just couldn't stop thinking about him. Even now. Even now that they were in the field, smack in the middle of a long, draining case, when their minds were supposed to be on taking down their unsub – the sick and twisted serial rapist with a preference for too-young girls – and finding justice for his victims…even now, her mind was on him.

She let out a sigh as she strapped on the now familiar weight of her Kevlar vest. Yes, they had equally agreed to take things slow; but that didn't warrant becoming an entirely new person. That was something Emily had simply not expected.

Amongst everything else, amongst all the changes in their relationship, was the fact that Emily now called him…Hotch. _Hotch_. She didn't like it, though she had nothing against the nickname, really. It simply didn't settle well on her lips and tongue, when she had gotten so used to calling him by his given name. How many times had she screamed _"Aaron!"_ on the cusp of blissful release?

Emily shook her head tinily. That was the least of her discomforts, and she knew it was necessary, for the sake of professionalism.

But that didn't make it suck any less.

"Alright," Hotch said, rounding the corner of the Bureau issue SUV they had shared with Morgan and Rossi. "Our key advantage here is stealth. Soft entries only." The team nodded. "Dave, Morgan, you two take the front," Hotch ordered seconds later.

"Prentiss…you're with me."

_Prentiss. _She gave a quick nod. "Got it."

And at that, they were off. It was something she quite liked, the rush, though she never really did get used to it. Even in her CIA and Interpol days, there had always been something titillating about slipping into a darkened house, guns at the ready, endless and useful knowledge sifting through her brain.

That last thought gave her a little smile. The team had been impressed, no doubt, when she had seamlessly slipped into Spanish then Russian when interviewing both suspects and victims' families alike. Even Aaron – even _Hotch _– had been impressed; he had only ever witnessed her speaking French, that one time that they had made love for an entire day and Emily had woken him with butterfly kisses to his neck and a breathy mumble of _"Je t'adore, mon amour. Et je te veux avec tout mon coeur, maintenant."_

Emily shivered, shaking the memory away as she and Hotch stalked down a hallway and up a curling flight of stairs. Her multilingualism had come in handy for more things than one, and Emily found herself truly happy that the young Doctor Reid was finally warming up to her. Perhaps, he found solace in the fact that he was no longer the only one with an affinity for Russian literature, Italian arias, or Arabic folklore and mythology.

Regardless…Emily was finally fitting in. She was finally home.

A careful touch to her shoulder brought her back to reality. A single glimpse into Hotch's eyes told her all she needed to know; it was go time. "On my count," he mouthed, hand already on the door behind which they were sure their unsub would be. "One…"

"…two," they said together.

_"Three."_

Everything happened so quickly.

Emily's and Hotch's mingled shouts of "FBI! Hands in the air!" echoed wildly in the small room…but were quickly drowned out by the sharp claps of rapid gunfire. Emily barely had the time to realize their unsub had been waiting for them with a terrifying patience before she felt fire rip through the skin of her left arm, throwing her shoulder back in result.

Hotch's eyes were wild with concern. "Emily!" he roared, as her sleeve blossomed a bright red.

"It's just a graze," she rasped back in response. _"Get that son of a bitch."_

She didn't need to tell him twice.

~.~.~

Only two weeks in, and Emily was already feeling the stress – the pain – of the job.

She snorted at the self-deprecating thought, her left arm stinging in reminder of what had taken place mere hours earlier. She was right, it had been just a graze; but that didn't mean it wasn't scarring, both physically and mentally. Emily could feel the weight of the damned bullet resting in her pocket now. She had nabbed it last minute, its gleaming surface seemingly mocking her from the unforgiving floor where it had lain after tearing her skin. Even now, Emily didn't quite know why she had taken it; but she did know that she needed to be stronger, better, faster.

Which is how Emily found herself in the shooting range, alone save for her Glock. She caressed the cold metal of its barrel as she would have caressed a lover, her slender finger barely brushing against the hairline trigger. Slowly, deliberately, Emily ran her tongue over her chapped and tired mouth. She could see her target on her far left; her back was to the range entrance.

A single deep exhalation passed her lips.

And then, a heartbeat later, it was as if something had snapped inside of Emily. Nine perfect rounds riddled bullet hole after bullet hole straight into the paper target's heart.

_"Damn,_ Prentiss."

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Emily whirled around to face the only other person in the room, her gun still in hand. She huffed when she saw who it was. "Jesus Christ, Morgan. I thought I was alone; you are _really_ lucky I didn't just shoot you."

He laughed at that, glancing at her feet pointedly, where nine shell casings had landed. "Pretty sure your chamber's empty. But imagine all the paperwork you would have to do," Morgan said drolly. "It would be never-ending."

Emily couldn't help but give a deep belly laugh that left her feeling better than she had in a while. "You raise a good point," she said amusedly. "I guess I'll save shooting you for another day," she teased.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Morgan smirked. "So, what are you doing down here all by yourself? Almost everyone else has gone home; even Hotch is already packing his bags."

"I could say the same about you." When Morgan said nothing in response, just waited patiently, Emily huffed out a short sigh. "I needed to blow off some steam. Wow, that sounds pathetic. Only two weeks in and I already need to blow off some steam."

But Morgan interrupted her disapproving, dry laughter with a wave of his hand. "At least you made it two weeks," he said. "I'm not even sure I made it a full seven days before I had to hit the gym and beat the shit out of a couple punching bags." Emily's resulting smile was grateful. "So what you're feeling is perfectly normal," he assured. "Well…as normal as this job is going to ever feel, that is."

"Right," Emily said with a nod. "It's just…tough. I'm no newbie to law enforcement, but this…what we see…it's twisted in so many ways. It grates on your nerves more than you think it will."

"Which, if you think about it, is a good thing. Because when it stops bothering you…that's when you should be worried." Morgan leaned against the wall, his gaze firmly on hers. "Speaking of worried. You gave us a scare earlier, with that bullet. Your arm okay?"

"Oh, yeah," she said without hesitation. "I've had much worse. It's nothing that I won't forget about in a day or two, with some painkillers…" Her voice trailed away.

Silence lapsed between the two for a while, and it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. Instead, Morgan settled to watch as Emily milled around her small space, gathering her shell casings in her palms and staring at them for a while – before letting out yet another sigh.

This time, Morgan understood. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say you want some time alone," he said gently, in a tone that made Emily smile yet again. "I'll get out of your hair, Prentiss…Emily."

"Thank you," Emily said simply. He was walking away with a friendly wave when she spoke once more. "And I don't just mean for this, for checking up on me, making me feel like I'm not having an abnormal experience. I mean…just…thanks," she shrugged.

Morgan's smile showed her that he really did understand whatever she was trying to communicate, no matter how eloquently she put her thoughts into words. "Don't thank me. You're my partner. It's just what we do."

"Yeah," she said to herself, after he had left. "Partners," she echoed, musing silently.

But it wasn't Derek Morgan that was on her mind.

~.~.~

Emily didn't know how she had managed to get to his place, but she wasn't surprised that she had. The idea had been flirting at the back of her mind for the entire day – the entire week. Going to the shooting range and spending round after round hadn't been enough to alleviate the stress that had been threatening to swallow her whole. She wanted his company instead. She _needed_ his company.

Which was why she was here now, knocking on his door with a fidgety and anxious smile on her lips. Emily hoped he would consider it a pleasant surprise, finding her on his doorstep with night setting behind her. She wasn't quite sure just what it was she wanted from him, with him…but she did know she was aching to feel his arms around him.

Seconds later, Emily's smile grew as she heard some shuffling and her favorite voice mumbling from behind the door. And then, when it opened…

Emily's gaze was smoldering. "Hi," she whispered.

The expression on Hotch's face went from surprised, as she had expected, to over the moon. "Emily," he breathed, "hi." He moved to embrace her, his lips resting against her cheek…and then against her temple, her jaw, her neck, and finally her own succulent lips. He kissed her until her skin was flushed a deep pink, until she was lightheaded, panting, and slumped against the front door.

"Wow," Emily sighed contentedly. "Now that was one hell of a greeting."

Hotch chuckled lowly, his arm wrapped snugly around her waist. "I was thinking the exact same thing." Then he smiled against her skin. "Come on in. We were just about to decide what to have for dinner."

"Thank you. Wait –" Emily froze. "'We'?" she echoed. Immediately, all of the worst scenarios imaginable began to run through her mind. "Oh, Aaron, if this is a bad time, I could always –"

He interrupted her with a lazy kiss, and a promise of much, much more. "You have perfect timing," he countered. "Besides, it was only a matter of time before I introduced you to him."

_Him?_

It was then that Emily heard it; an adorably high-pitched voice from just around the corner. "Who's it, Daddy?"

Turning away for but a moment, Hotch came back with a little bustling boy in his arms. "Jack, buddy, this is Emily, Daddy's…special friend. Can you say hi to Emily?"

Instead of being terribly wary like most kids his age would have been, Jack Hotchner simply lolled his head to the side, resting against his father's shoulder, and gave her a shy smile. "Hi, Em…Emi…Emi…"

Emily indulged him with a sweet grin. "You can call me Emmy, if that's easier."

Jack giggled quietly. "Emmy. Hi, Emmy."

"Hi, Jack. It's good to meet you," she said, already in love with his blonde hair and big hazel eyes. "Your daddy has told me a lot about you, but what he _didn't_ tell me is that you are such an incredibly handsome young man." She was met with more rambunctious giggles.

"What do you say to Emmy, Jack-Jack?" Hotch prompted, tickling the boy's side.

"Thank you," he squealed.

"You are very welcome." Emily hummed as Hotch led her deeper into his apartment, his free hand resting comfortably low on her back. "You know, Jack, your daddy tells me that you are a big three years old," she said conversationally.

Jack squirmed as Hotch placed him high atop the kitchen counter. "Almost four!" he said brightly, with a gap-toothed grin. "In Oct…Oct…"

"October," Hotch provided, smoothing out Jack's suddenly scrunched up face.

"Uh huh!"

"Wow," Emily exclaimed, "four years old!" She met Hotch's playful gaze with hers. "You know what I think, Aaron? I think Jack is already a big boy, and I think _that_ is reason to celebrate."

"I would have to say the same thing," Hotch agreed, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He flashed her a gorgeous dimple, and Emily could instantly see the resemblance between both boys. "What do you think, Emily? How should we celebrate?"

"Well, you did say you were in the process of deciding what to have for dinner…why don't we – I mean, you –"

"We," Hotch said firmly, his voice warm and irresistible.

"– let him choose?" Emily finished weakly.

"That sounds good to me. Well, Jack?" Hotch swept the three-year-old back into his arms. "What do you want for dinner, buddy?" he asked; though he already knew. It was the same answer every time...and he never minded.

"Pizza, Daddy! Pizza!" His gorgeous eyes were wide as saucers. _"Pwease?"_

Hotch couldn't help but laugh; seeing his son's jubilant smile never failed to make his heart swell with fatherly pride. "You've got it, Jack. Let's see...pepperoni on one half, three cheese on the other?"

"Yeah!"

"Alright," Hotch said theatrically, his voice alone forcing Jack back into peals of laughter. He was reaching for the phone with a card in hand when Emily stopped him. Of its own volition, her hand came up to his shoulder, idly massaging the muscle she found under his corded skin.

"Uh, Aaron? Just what do you think you're doing?" Emily coyly arched an eyebrow, her head titled to the side as she watched him slowly set the phone down at the expression on her face.

"I was...going to call our favorite pizza place and have them deliver." Their gazes met, and not for the first time that day, Hotch felt a jolt of what felt like desire run through him at the humorous glare Emily tossed him. "Why do I get the feeling that you're appalled by the idea?"

Emily chuckled. "I confess I did have another idea on my mind." Neither noticed as Jack ambled back into the apartment's main room, splaying across the floor and playing with his toys.

"And this idea," Hotch teased, "were you planning to share it? _Are_ you planning on sharing it?"

"Maybe." She grinned. "It all depends on if you have English muffins, tomato paste, sandwich meat, and cheese."

"And if I don't?"

Emily gave him a pretty pout. "Then I will be forever ashamed of you and we will never be able to be…special friends ever again." She lowered her voice and took her bottom lip between her teeth. "Because that's what we are, right? Special friends?" she teased.

"Very special," he growled. With Jack far out of earshot, Hotch all but attacked Emily's neck with hungry kisses, smiling victoriously against her throat as he drew whimper after whimper from the back of her throat. He loved distracting her, especially when it meant he would get a taste of her sweet skin – that skin he had missed feeling against his for much too long.

"Aaron," Emily groaned, as he dipped her back to feast on her collarbone. "Oh…"

Still busying himself with unraveling the woman before him, Hotch blindly reached for the door of his refrigerator. Reluctantly tearing away from her jaw for just a second, he made a sound of approval before kissing her once more. "We have English muffins. And pizza sauce, instead of regular tomato paste. You're in luck."

"I beg to differ, I think _you're_ the one in luck," she murmured, her dark eyes peering into his and pulling him deeper into her spell. "After all, we can be special friends again."

"You're never going to let me live that one down, are you?" he whispered, toying with the shell of her ear.

"Never."

"I didn't think so." Noticeably bereft as Emily moved out of his embrace, Hotch fished through the fridge for their required ingredients to make mini personal pizzas before calling out to his son. "Jacky, buddy, do you think you can go wash your hands all by yourself?"

Jack came running around the corner, an impossibly huge grin on his sweet face. "Yeah! I'm a big boy, Daddy! Emmy said so!"

"That you are," Hotch said proudly. "Go wash up and then we can make dinner together."

With the young boy dashing off in the other direction, Hotch allowed himself to rest his forehead against Emily's. "So…not that I'm not absolutely thrilled to have you over for dinner, and to see you outside of work, finally. But what brought you here?" he asked softly.

Emily looked at him intently, and for a second, she felt like it was eight years ago and she was falling for him all over again. Something about the tenderness behind such simple words…it made her knees weak. "I don't know, really," she said with a nonchalant shrug. I wanted to blow off some steam earlier today. I went to the shooting range, but it wasn't enough…I guess I realized that what I really wanted was some company. Your company."

"You wouldn't be the only one," he said quietly.

"I know we said we would take things slow," she sighed, "but I just wanted to see you. And talk and...do whatever."

"Taking things slow doesn't mean we have to forget the other person exists." Hotch chuckled. "Though, admittedly, I have forgotten some other things. Like asking you if you'd like to stay for dinner in the first place. Obviously, now that you've come up with a brilliant idea for dinner, I assume you're staying...though I really need to stop making assumptions...and, well, I'd really love it if you..." He stopped, shook his head. "Wow. I'm rambling. That's a good sign."

Emily's musical laughter met his ears and soothed his soul. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. You really can be adorable, Aaron Hotchner."

"Adorable," Hotch repeated drolly. "Because that is what I strive to be every single day."

"I can tell."

~.~.~

"Okay, now it's your turn, Jack." Emily smiled down at the boy. "Think you can stand on your tiptoes and sprinkle some cheese on the muffins? The more cheese, the better."

"But I can't reach..."

Without hesitation, Emily lifted Jack high up into her arms. "How about now?"

That made him giggle. "Yes! Lots of cheese!"

"Alright, you two are having too much fun," Hotch cracked, pulling a small, nondescript plastic container from the refrigerator.

"What's wrong, Aaron?" Emily taunted. "Jealous?"

"A little." He grinned good-naturedly. "Now look at what I found."

Emily opened the container, her face immediately brightening with the glee only a seasoned chef could have. "Oh, this is _so_ much better than regular sandwich meat," she exclaimed, picking apart the leftover rotisserie chicken with clean fingers. "This is _perfect_."

"I'm glad you think so," Hotch said, helping Jack finish sprinkling the grated cheese over each open-faced English muffin. "I almost forgot we had it."

"Can we eat now?" Jack piped up, with his endearingly childish impatience.

Emily laughed. "Jack, sweetie, we haven't even warmed up the pizza yet. It wouldn't taste any good."

"Oh."

"I'll tell you what, though; you can eat some cheese to hold you over until the pizza is ready, if your daddy says it's okay."

Jack eagerly took the miniature cut of cheddar from Emily and looked up to his father with those doe eyes that no one would ever be able to turn down. "Can I, Daddy?"

"You sure can." He chuckled as the cheese was devoured in less than a second. "And, buddy, look what I'm doing right now," Hotch said.

Jack watched eagerly as Hotch placed the tray of personal pizzas, sauce, cheese, chicken, and all, into the oven. "Yay!" His excitement – and hunger – was so uncontrollable that he actually began to jump up and down.

"My goodness, you're just a little ball of energy, aren't you?" Emily laughed.

"All day, every day," Hotch smirked. "In fact, he –" But he was interrupted by a tug on his sleeve. "Yes, Jack?" The young boy beckoned him downward, down to his height.

Hotch's eyes shone with mirth as Jack whispered insistently into his ear. "Emily, Jack has a very serious question to ask you."

"Go for it, Jack."

"Emmy." He gazed at her as she, too, knelt to his height. "Do you like dinosaurs?"

"Are you kidding me?" She placed her hands on his small shoulders. "I _love_ dinosaurs! I think they're the coolest ever. Especially those T-Rexes."

Jack's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "I have lots of dinosaurs! Wanna play? Pwease?"

"Of course I want to play," Emily said, already irrevocably in love with the three – almost four – year old. "How about you show me all of your dinosaurs after dinner?"

"Okay," he nodded eagerly. "But…what we do now?"

"Now," Hotch said, cocking his head in the direction of the oven's timer, "now we sit back and wait."

~.~.~

"It's just you and me now."

Emily looked up at Hotch, smiling as she gratefully took his proffered glass of wine. "It is? Jack's asleep?"

"Out like a light, after telling me over and over again how much he likes 'Miss Emmy'. Now we can talk or…do whatever," he said, repeating her words from earlier.

"Hmmm. On one hand, I feel like that's all we've been doing; talking. But on the other, I feel like we haven't really talked about anything, and instead, we've just jumped right in with both feet…you know?"

"I do."

"We see each other every day." Emily swallowed. "But I see Hotch and you see Prentiss; while I know you as Aaron, and you know me as Emily."

"Emily," he echoed, stroking her cheek with lazy indulgence. A minute passed before he spoke once more. "You never told me you were so good with kids."

"I never had reason to, until now."

"Good point."

"You know, I…" She licked her lips, gave a half smile. "I honestly didn't think I'd meet Jack so soon. I thought, for sure, that you'd wait a month or more…"

"Why would I do that?" Hotch asked; though he already knew the answer. He had always been good at reading her…or, at least, that's what he told himself.

"I just thought, with you and your…ex-wife…maybe things would be different." Emily gave a careless shrug, noticeably relaxing when she felt Hotch snake an arm around her waist.

"Emily, Haley and I have been divorced for seven months. While Jack doesn't understand it – I don't blame him; everything has happened so quickly, and he's so young –, I do want him to understand that he will not be alienated from either side of his family," he sighed. "You're right, of course. We should take things slow, no matter how tempting it may be to pretend those eight years didn't happen." There was a pause. "God, I sound bipolar right now. I'm good at making judgment calls in the field, but when it comes to my own personal life…" They both laughed.

"All I know is," Hotch continued, "good things happened here today, tonight. It felt right, didn't it? My son is certainly smitten."

"He's not the only Hotchner boy who is, is he?" Emily responded cheekily.

"No. No, he most certainly is not." Their lips met in a kiss that tasted like expensive red wine and innocent excitement. "I don't want to think about Haley anymore," he murmured. "I don't want to spend tonight worrying or over-thinking. I want to enjoy you; I want to _feel_ you."

Emily moaned as she felt his nimble fingers at the waistband of her pants. "Great minds think alike," she managed.

"It's been a long week," Hotch said simply. "We're all wound up in our own special ways." Emily gasped at the first touch of his fingers to her hot, fleshy folds. "It's a good think you've always been such a distraction."

"Look who's talking." She arched her back as he immediately found her clit.

"After this," he panted hotly into her ear, "I'm going to take you to bed and make love to you. I'm going to feel every inch of you, cover every inch of your gorgeous body with my kisses. And we'll _take things slow_."

But Emily wasn't listening; she couldn't, not when her body was already singing the song it was. "You've always been so good with your hands." She bit her lip hard to prevent from crying out - and waking Jack. "Do you remember that one time...when it was early morning, and we were in my kitchen...and I was making you breakfast..." A whimper slipped past her swollen lips, and their gazes burned into one another. "And you came up behind me and fingered me to orgasm right then and there, right against my granite countertop." The memory had her more hot and bothered than anything he was doing to her at the moment. "And then...later, when I gave you your coffee, you said..."

"I like my coffee with a little cream." His grin was feral, and Emily was starstruck. "How could I forget?"

"Shit, I'm already so close," she ground out. _"Aaron -"_

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed, the pet name slipping from his lips with no thought at all, just as it had when Emily had called Jack the very same thing. "Go ahead and let go; I'll hold onto you, I promise. _I'll never let you go."_

His honey-sweet voice did nothing but increase the rush she was feeling. "I don't think I can -"

_"Emily."_

_"Oh!" _Her entire body bowed tightly as a wicked orgasm tore through. "Oh my God. Oh..."

"There you go," Hotch crooned, his blood burning for her as she fell back to Earth. "Let me bear your weight, yes. Just like that. Good girl."

It was a long while before either could speak again.

"If I remember correctly," Hotch said finally, after a long stretch of not uncomfortable silence, "I believe I owe you a date."

"After that?" Emily murmured satedly. "Mmmm, Aaron. You don't owe me anything."

That made him chuckle. "I'm flattered. But I _really_ want to take you out, Emily. That's what you deserve; a nice candlelight dinner at an expensive restaurant with excellent wine and delicious cooking that only you could top."

"Now _I'm _flattered," she blushed.

"Speaking of which," Hotch muttered a beat too late, "about tonight's dinner. I'd almost forgotten how delicious you are."

"You mean my cooking," Emily corrected, her voice husky.

"No. I mean you, Emily Prentiss." Their kiss was more passionate than ever now, and Emily found she never wanted it to stop. Hotch made her feel like flying, and she _loved_ it. She was addicted.

"Do me a favor," she said hoarsely, once their hearts were beating at a rate that couldn't possibly be healthy.

"Anything, beautiful."

"Make me come again." The decree fanned out against his earlobe. "But this time...I want you to call me Prentiss."

"Really?" he questioned; and she was already in his arms, being carried away.

"Really. I want to be able to think of something beyond pleasant when you call me that in the field. I want to think of this moment...and never forget."

Hotch's heart beat a wild and terrible tattoo against the sturdy wall of his chest as he lay Emily back on his bed and tenderly kissed the bandage covering her latest battle wound. He had been terrified when he heard her irrepressible cry of surprise and pain as the bullet had met her skin. Terrified. "You want yet another something to distract you in the line of fire." It was a statement, not a question; once again, he knew he was right.

"Yes." Emily's eyes rolled back in her head and she kissed Hotch like it was the last time she ever would. "Oh God, yes."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Reviews are love! Please spare me a minute to tell me a minute to tell me what you think; your feedback is the best inspiration and motivation for me. Thanks in advance!<strong>**

**We've got a lot of complications coming up in the next few chapters. I've already outlined the remaining fourteen chapters of the story, though; you're in good hands, I promise. ;)**


	28. Grapevine

**Author's Note: **I do remember a lot of you commenting on how lovely you thought the fact that Hotch and Emily only very rarely fought in Part One was. That was before their lives had gotten so complicated with their jobs - with their _same_ job. **And so, the drama begins here. Honest to God, my intention with the upcoming chapters is to depict Haley as a regular human being with human emotions (which can very often be ugly). I don't want to make her into a psychotic ex-wife hell bent on exacting revenge on her husband and all the women in his life. **

**But my muse might think differently. ;) I hope you enjoy! As always, thank you for reading.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Aaron."<p>

"Haley."

Hotch was only barely able to suppress his tired sigh. Their phone conversation hadn't even begun, yet he was already wishing it were over. It was always empty rhetoric, day after day: _hi, hello, how are you, good, same here, I'll pick Jack up at three, okay, good-bye. _Detached seemed to fall short.

It wasn't that he hadn't ever loved her. He had, greatly. She had profiled as charming, soft-spoken, and understanding, though Hotch would learn that the latter wasn't too true. He didn't _really_ blame her, though; the job was the job and it loved wrecking havoc on any party that impeded its way.

Above everything else, the petite Haley Hotchner, née Brooks, was the mother of his child, the son whom he adored with every fiber of his being. He knew she was just as dedicated to raising Jack in the best of ways as he was, and for that, he was grateful.

But as their time together lengthened to a very long five years, Hotch couldn't help but feel as if it just…wasn't enough. She wasn't enough; though he would never mention that to her, of course. He was, after all, a gentleman through and through.

And so, they had broken things off.

Shaking his head, Hotch ran a hand through his dark hair before speaking once more. "How are you?"

"Good." There was a pause. "Though, imagine my surprise when Jack called me from daycare today."

"He did?" Hotch's tone was…unsure. Wary.

"Mm-hmm. He couldn't wait to tell me all the details about his fun night with Daddy." Haley let a terse exhalation pass her lips; and _nothing _could have prepared Hotch for her next words.

"Who's Emily?"

Hotch opened his mouth, closed it; tried to speak, couldn't. "Emily is the new agent on my team," he said evenly, looking at her all the while, watching as Emily downed her second cup of coffee and grimaced shortly afterward.

But Haley wasn't sold. "You're sure she's not your…what was it that Jack called her? Oh, right. Your 'special friend'?"

Hotch couldn't suppress his sigh this time. "Haley," he said quietly, "believe me, I do not want to sound crass. But I'm not entirely sure this is any of your business."

"No, you're right," she said just as coolly. "It probably isn't. But it _is_ if you're parading random women in front of my – our – son. It's a bit early for that, don't you think?"

_Parading?_ Hotch couldn't believe they were having this conversation. _What kind of man does she think I am? _"First of all, I actually did not plan on having Emily over last night, and it wasn't as if she knew it was a day I would have Jack with me. She dropped by unannounced." Hotch wondered briefly if he sounded as thrilled as he had felt when he had seen her there, on his doorstep. "Emily said it herself," Hotch continued. "She was surprised that she had gotten the chance to meet Jack so…_early_. And secondly, Emily isn't some 'random woman'," he informed.

There was something about the way he said that, Haley noted; a certain fondness she remembered hearing a while back, while they had still been married – and happily so.

"Wait," she said suddenly. "Emily…is this the same Emily that you used to date?"

The fact that her tone was purely curious unnerved Hotch to no end. "Long before you and I met, yes," he answered after a beat. "That's her."

"Wow. How long has it been since you last saw her? Five, six years?"

Hotch was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Almost nine," he amended, with a clearing of his throat. "Listen, Haley…"

"So let's say it's been eight years. At the risk of sounding crass," she said conversationally, echoing his words from earlier, "what are your plans here? Are you just going to pick up eight years later as if it's only been eight days? Don't get me wrong, Aaron; I wish you the best," Haley said in a tone that hinted the opposite. "But it just seems like you're rushing an awful lot."

"We're not dating officially _yet_," Hotch informed, getting defensive – of himself and of Emily.

"Oh, so you're just sleeping together. _That's_ a smart relationship move." Even Haley winced as the words slipped past her lips. She hadn't meant to be so…aggressive. "I-I'm sorry –"

"Don't be," he said curtly. "I have a lot of work to do, Haley. Surely you know that."

_Oh, don't I. _Haley thought back to the day he had gotten the Unit Chief position; the day he became more married to his job than to her. "I do," she mumbled softly, almost ashamed at her behavior. Jealousy could be one ugly beast. "I'll leave you to it."

The line went dead.

Letting the phone drop back into its cradle, Hotch slumped back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with two long fingers – fingers Emily never failed to tell him she loved.

_Emily._

With a begrudging sigh, Hotch turned to take on the paperwork on his desk, the paperwork both he and Emily now had to fill out. The paperwork about Emily being shot.

A familiar feeling of dread settled deep in Hotch's bones as he recounted the scene. He could remember, clear as day, how he had felt when he saw the blood staining her pristine – and undoubtedly expensive – white blouse. It had been crippling; all he had wanted to do in that one moment had been to rush over to her and take her into his arms, unsub be damned.

And that scared him. He wasn't about to let Haley's misguided words get to him, but he did know that he – and Emily, too, for that matter – could only do this, could only be in this…relationship…if it didn't affect their job performance. They had to be able to remain objective and maintain a certain sense of clarity.

Because close calls were no good for anyone.

He knew all this. But the moment he saw Emily coming up to his office, a stack of papers in hand, it was as if nothing in the world mattered – nothing but her. Hotch groaned, feeling _more_ than bipolar; and, in an instant, he realized that this had probably been exactly what Emily had felt when she had chosen to leave, eight years ago.

Perhaps the sickened, conflicted feeling he was experiencing was visible on his face, because upon entering the office after a gentle knock, Emily's first words were, "Are you okay?"

"I was just about to ask you that." Hotch cleared a place on his desk for her to set her files down.

"I'm fine," Emily said with a bit of a laugh. "But you already knew that. Now, don't be going and evading my questions."

Hotch indulged her with a smile that was becoming rarer and rarer with every day that passed. "I'm alright," he said; though he couldn't help but shoot a contemptuous glance at his office phone. "Just drained, you know?"

"I do." But Emily was remaining optimistic. "I bet Jack will be able to cheer you up when you get home, though."

"Haley picks him up today."

"…Oh."

Hotch met her eyes, gazed at her almost wistfully. "Yeah."

Emily suddenly had an overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around his waist and just hug him. "Well…at least I finished my paperwork. And I see you're almost done with yours, too. That makes the day a little less dull, right?"

"It certainly does." He let a quiet chuckle escape. "Remind me to keep you around. You've always been good at cheering me up." _At making me feel good._

His shy laugh was contagious, and Emily found herself joining in before she knew what she was doing. "Alright, Agent Hotchner. I'll remind you…after work?"

"Sounds good to me, Agent Prentiss." The way he rumbled her last name was almost too much for Emily to handle. "I'll see you around," he promised.

"Yes, you will."

~.~.~

_"Daddy!"_

Emily had been right about that much; seeing his boy after a long day at work did wonders for his attitude and state of being. "Hey, buddy," he greeted affectionately, laughing when Jack leaped into his arms without even a second of hesitation. With a kind wave to the lady in charge of the quaint little daycare, Hotch playfully carted Jack to their car, making sure he was thoroughly and safely strapped into his booster seat before climbing in behind the wheel and heading home. "Did you have a fun day, Jack-Jack?"

"Uh huh!" The boy wriggled excitedly, and Hotch was not at all surprised when a heavily crayoned piece of paper was thrust in his direction. "Look at what I drew, Daddy! D'you like it?"

Hotch waited until they were stopped at a red light, five minutes from home – their old home, _Haley's _home –, before looking at the tasteful drawing. As per usual, it depicted three misshapen stick figures of various sizes; but this time, the third person was someone different, someone Jack had never drawn before. Hotch had an inkling he knew who the black-haired woman holding a red triangle he assumed to be a slice of pizza was…but he asked his son nonetheless. "Who's this, buddy?"

"That's Miss Emmy! Can't you tell?"

"You bet I can." Hotch shot his son a grin over his shoulder. "It's a very nice drawing, Jack. I'd even go so far to say it's one of my favorites."

"D'you think Emmy'd put it on her fwidge like Mommy?" Jack's tone was of the utmost seriousness. "'Cause I wanna give it to her."

"You know, I bet she would. She might even _frame it._"

Jack's eyes went wide at the sheer thought. _"Really?"_

"Really. I can give it to her when I see her at work, if that's what you want."

"Uh huh." It was a while before Jack settled down again. Nothing could stop him from chattering away, though. "Daddy, I like Emmy."

Hotch smiled to himself, dimples and all, at his son's sweet words. "I like Emmy, too, bud." _I like her a lot. So much. Almost too much._

"Is she coming tonight?"

The sly voice of Hotch's conscience couldn't resist piping up. _Not in the way you think._ Hotch shook his head. "Not tonight, buddy. You get to stay with Mommy for a couple days, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." For the life of him, Hotch couldn't tell if Jack was…disappointed. "When, Daddy?"

"Right…_now_." Hotch put the car into park as he pulled into Haley's driveway. "Look, buddy, there's Mommy. Let me unbuckle you so you can go run and give her a big hug and kiss, okay?"

"Okay." Hotch delivered true to his word, and Jack was instantly off like a rocket, running straight into Haley's waiting arms. "Hi, Mommy," he greeted, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hi, honey," she beamed. "I missed you so much this weekend. Did you have a good time with Daddy?" _And…Emily?_

He nodded exuberantly. "We made pizza!"

"Oh, wow, _pizza,"_ Haley said indulgently, smiling down at her beloved son. "That sounds tasty. Was it tasty, Jack?"

"It was, Mommy! It was the –"

"– the best pizza ever." Hotch's voice was low as he offered Haley their customary, cordial hug. He was surprised to the point of stiffening momentarily, however, when Haley pressed a kiss to his cheek soon afterward. Her gaze was carefully averted from his; but inside, her heart was pounding, wondering at how he would react.

Jack thought nothing of the seemingly simple action, though; to him, it was the funniest thing he had seen. Giggling raucously, he wriggled in his mother's embrace until he was able to press a sloppy kiss to his father's cheek as well.

And, try as he might, Hotch couldn't prevent from smiling, just a little. It had nothing to do with Haley, he assured himself that much. But it had everything to do with his son. His son, for whom he would do anything and everything. Jack was greatest reason he continued doing his job, day in and day out; to make the world a better place for both new and old generations alike, one unsub at a time. Jack was certain his father was Superman. But all Hotch wanted to be was _Jack's_ personal superhero.

Anyone driving by would have thought nothing of the scene they passed. To them, the man with the lined face, the woman with the sleek blonde hair, and the boy who was surely their adorable son made up the perfect family. The _normal _American family. And, for once, Hotch let himself pretend that that's what they still were. It was what he had always wanted, when he had been a child himself. The neighborhood girls he had grown up with had wanted the white-picket fence with the dog and the loving husband. He had always wanted the classic Radio Flyer red wagon on the sidewalk, where his children would have left it, and a wife to grow old with. A wife he would be able to take long walks with in the morning, their wrinkled hands always intertwined.

Even as a child he had been wiser, more aged than most. He hoped it had made his parents proud – or, at least, his mother.

Not for the first time that day, Hotch found himself suppressing a weary sigh. It was all just fantasy, he reminded himself. They were not a normal family; they were so beyond normal, it would make people's heads spin. It wasn't as if he and Haley'd had a bitter divorce. He had been the one to bring it up in the first place, and had consequently been the one to file for it in the end. But it had been a mutual decision.

At least…that's what Haley had repeated to him a dozen times. How she really felt, Hotch was certain he would never know – especially now with Emily in the mix. Haley had always been a mystery, and not necessarily in the same captivating way as his favorite brunette.

_You're comparing them again,_ _Aaron,_ Hotch heard the voice of his conscience say. _Watch yourself._

He didn't need to for much longer. Because, before his overactive imagination could spin up more ideal family tales to ponder over, the sharp ping of a ringing cell phone cut through the air, bringing Haley's and Jack's lighthearted conversation to a stop – an abrupt one on the former's behalf.

Hotch didn't really need to look at the phone to guess who it was. The smile was threatening to curve his lips once more; but right before he could bring himself to pull his phone from his pocket, a key line shot through his mind.

_"Are you just going to pick up eight years later as if it's only been eight days? It just seems like you're rushing an awful lot."_

Hotch couldn't fault Haley that much; both he and Emily had both readily admitted that very same observation to one another. But they were working things out, _slowly_ but surely. They had always been a good team. Things would be good in the end.

_Things will be good in the end,_ Hotch told himself, repeating it like a mantra so he would never forget it. Never let it…slip right through his fingers.

Unbeknownst to him, for he was in such deep thought, Haley was gazing at him intently, listening to the phone as it gave ring after ring after ring. She, too, was perceptive enough to guess that Emily was the caller. And she didn't really know how she felt about that.

Not that she should've had such strong feelings in the first place. _Why should I care that an ex-girlfriend is calling? We're not married anymore. He has his personal lives and I have mine,_ she reminded herself. But the tiny voice doing the reminding sounded remarkably less than half-hearted.

It took him a frighteningly long while before he made the decision to answer the call. He would have answered it eventually, he was sure. He had just…needed some time to think things over.

Glancing upward for a single second, Hotch shared a less-than understanding glance with Haley before finally answering the call. The smile had finally broken free.

"Hey, Em."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong><strong>Thoughts? Questions? Anything you'd like to see happen? <strong>If you have the time, please leave a review! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they always make my day!<strong>******


	29. Beauty and the Beast

**Author's Note: You guys really are the best ever. Your comments and questions inspired so much of this chapter when I was honestly at a dead end, and your suggestions will definitely make an appearance soon. I cannot express how grateful I am that you all have stuck with me thus far. I'll make it worth your while, I promise!**

**As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p><em>"Hey, Em."<em>

Emily, oblivious to how deep in thought her lover had previously been, couldn't help but smile at the nickname. _He didn't call me Prentiss_. She knew it was something trivial, his newfound tendency to call her by her last name, and she knew he only did it because of the job.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

There was something about his voice, though. He sounded lost…troubled. Different. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Hello to you, too, Aaron," he teased, holding his phone to his ear that much tighter, wishing he was with her that very moment. "I'm _fine_, Emily. Really. Don't worry about me."

"Yeah, well…that's easier said than done," she admitted readily. He had always caused her to wear her heart on her sleeve, that much was sure. She just wasn't herself when she was around him; no, he made her _better_.

A smile touched Hotch's lips at Emily's earnest words, and in an instant, all conflicted ponderings he'd had about Haley and her strange behavior meant nothing. He suspected she had only gone along with the divorce uncontested because it would've been more destructive for Jack if she hadn't. And Hotch respected that. But there was nothing she could do about it any longer. Hotch had Emily to sweeten his days now. The only common element he and Haley shared was Jack.

Jack, who was currently clawing at his father's arm at the mention of _Emily._

"Anyway," Emily said, and Hotch imagined her sprawled out on her bed, her work clothes in a pile on her floor, speaking into her phone as she ran her fingers through her thick hair. "Are you free tonight? Because, quite honestly, you're kind of irresistible, and before you pull that roguishly smart ass attitude of yours out of a hat and ask, no, I did not get enough of you last night," she said on a single breath, her husky voice addictive.

Hotch burst out into uproarious laughter, the action instantly making him feel better than he had in an entire week. _"Emily…"_

She was grinning now. "Besides," Emily said coyly, "it doesn't have to be a date or anything. I just want to spend some quality time with my Unit Chief."

Hotch rolled his eyes at her casual dismissal. "Shhhh."

"I'm sorry, _did you just shush me?"_

His laughter was uncontrollable now. "_I_ didn't; that Unit Chief of yours did. I've heard he can be a bit of a jerk sometimes."

"I bet," she teased. "But it doesn't matter anyway; I like my bad boys. Also, should I be worried that you're suffering from multiple personality disorder?"

"Absolutely. But don't be going and evading my questions," he tossed right back, repeating her words from earlier that day.

"You didn't ask me a question."

Hotch chuckled. "Well, here's one. Will you stop that little dismissal thing you always do? It's a _date_, Emily. Nothing less," he said thickly.

Emily bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. _What a man_. "Okay," she responded lamely, her entire body singing. A smile teased her soon-to-be swollen lips. "Think you can swing by my place at…eight, maybe?"

"You got it. Though, I I hope you don't think you've beaten me to the punch, Emily. I've been thinking bout the best time to ask you out for a _very_ long time now," he informed smugly.

"Oh, stop. I'm blushing," Emily giggled; _actually_ giggled. This was the Aaron Hotchner she knew, the sweet man with the smooth, soothing voice and the killer smile. She had missed him and their witty, flirtatious banter; simply being back in his presence was not the same, not the same as being on equal footing in his element, just the two of them. It was like they had rewound eight years, and once again had not a care in the world – but each other.

"I'll see you at eight o'clock sharp then," Hotch vowed.

"I can't wait."

It was with great reluctance that Hotch put his phone away, finally remembering that he hadn't been alone – that they were still standing in the driveway, staring off into the distance. Carefully meeting Haley's gaze, Hotch casually cocked his head to where his car was parked. "I've got to go," he said simply.

"To see Emily?" Haley mused aloud. The answer was obvious enough. She was just…bitter.

Because Hotch had been correct in his suspicions; Haley was still harboring mixed emotions, emotions that would've been better dealt with early on. But she was stubborn, more so than even her ex-husband. She was stubborn, torn, and jealous. And very, very sad.

"Yes," Hotch answered, after a weighty beat of silence. "Yes, to see Emily."

This time, it was Jack who piped up. "But Daddy, you said Emmy wasn't coming," he fussed, obviously enamored with the woman. Hotch could relate. "I wanna see Emmy, too."

Hotch could feel Haley's resentment radiating in waves off of her thin frame. "Sorry, buddy. Sometime in the future, maybe. But right now, I want you to have the best time _ever_ with Mommy, okay? I want you to have lots and lots of fun so you have plenty of stories to tell me on the weekend."

"'Kay." And just like that, Jack Hotchner was cheery again. "I like telling stories."

"I know you do." Hotch ruffled his son's hair. "Okay, Jack Jack, gimme a kiss." The little boy eagerly complied. "I love you very much, sweet boy."

"Love you, too, Daddy!"

Hotch was still smiling – though not as brightly – when he turned to Haley. He didn't want to offend her, or to hurt her feelings; but their lives were different now. She was a grown woman with a routine separate to his. She no longer could have a hold on him, and he no longer had one on her.

And he didn't mind. After all, someone else had a hold on his heart now.

Hotch raised a single hand in friendly farewell. "Bye, Haley."

She watched him go, her head and heart whispering two very different rhythms to the rest of her body. This time, it was she who was lost in thought; and her thoughts were not entirely as innocent as her conscience would have liked. She was well accustomed to that, though. What she wanted, she would more than likely never get.

…more than likely.

"Goodbye, Aaron," she mumbled finally, as he drove away. Her pale lips turned down into a tight frown for but a second before lifting Jack into her arms.

_Goodbye._

_~.~.~_

It was as if she had been waiting for the knock on her door for the entire day.

Crossing the length of her apartment in only a few long, heeled strides, Emily tried but failed to keep her nerves in check. She felt like a teenager on her first date, anxiously smoothing down her little black dress and picking at the rosettes that were clumped around one single shoulder. She felt sexy, which was a good sign; because, in a way, it was like a first date. A first _official_ date, really…or as official as one could be when seeing one's boss.

Rolling her eyes at how needlessly far she had let her brain run, Emily took that final step to the door and let it swing open…

…and her resulting smile was luminous.

"Hey," she greeted, in that voice of hers that had Hotch's blood boiling in a second. Letting him into her apartment, Emily left a teasing kiss to his cheek, a kiss Hotch immediately deemed as _not enough_. He wanted more.

He would have more by the end of the night.

"Hey," he replied simply, drinking her in. "You look…" Hotch breathed out an impressed, incoherent murmur of a sigh, "perfect." And she really did, in a black dress that was littler than most but still unwaveringly modest, and those fire truck red heels that had him thinking up all sorts of fantasies that were less than modest. Emily's naturally straight hair was even straighter now, catching reflections of the overhead lights like immaculately polished ebony. She was a vision, quite simply.

And she was his, all his.

"You, uh, ready to go?"

"I am," Hotch nodded. "There's just…one thing I want to do first. And so, he kissed her. He plundered her sweet mouth until she was breathless and writhing against the door, until she fisted a hand in his navy dress shirt and groaned.

"Aaron…" Her eyes were dazed, unfocused. "Not that I don't love what you're doing to me. But at this rate, we're never going to be able to go on a date, ever again. Not if we can't even make it out the door," she chuckled fondly. "Besides…don't you want to save your dessert for later, bad boy?"

"You're right, you're right," he rumbled. "Here." He pressed a fragrant purple and white bouquet into her hands. His voice was suddenly soft. "I wasn't sure if I'd ever gotten you violets before. They were…the most beautiful flowers I could find."

Emily gazed at him for a while, the perfume of the pure white lilies sweetening the air around them. "They're perfect," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her body against his in a tender hug. "Thank you, Aaron. Let me run and put these in a vase, and then we can go."

Hotch's smile was peaceful. "Take your time."

Their drive to the upscale Cuban restaurant was not a long one; not when they were in such enjoyable company with so much to catch up on. They could and did talk about the littlest things, reveling in the other's laughter each time. It was when they were finally seated, with a glass of wine each, that conversation grew serious – somewhat.

"You know, we keep bringing it up, the length of time we were away from one another," Emily said. "Nine years…almost a full decade. I know I am eons more experienced and serious now, but whenever I'm with you, like this…" She smiled down at her hands. "You make me feel _young_ again."

"You say that as if you believe you're old," Hotch countered. "Emily, sweetheart, you're only…what, thirty-five?"

That made Emily laugh. "Shame on you, Aaron Hotchner. To think, all these years, I thought you were a gentleman. Don't you know it's impolite to ask a lady her age?" Hotch gave an exaggerated wince. "That's strike one for you, Mister."

"Damn it." She laughed even more as Hotch took her hand in his, toying with each and every one of her beautifully slender fingers. She wasn't terribly surprised, however, when he slowed his actions, having noticed something interesting. "Do you bite your nails?" he wondered aloud. It was an aspect he had never remembered seeing her do.

Eventually, Emily nodded. "I do, sometimes. I know it's a bad habit, and I hate it. But…when I'm under stress, I can't control it."

"Have you been under stress lately?" The question was redundant; they _all_ were under stress. It was just a matter of when. And why.

_Bless his heart._ "Not…lately, no." Emily sighed. "It's a long story, and one that isn't entirely pleasant. I really do not want to spoil our dinner."

"You would never do any such thing." Both Hotch and Emily muttered their thanks as their waiter placed their food on the dark wood table. "You know me, Emily; I would never ask you to speak about something you don't want to." A beat passed. "But I do want you to know that, if you ever want or need someone to talk to…" He kissed her hand. "I'll always be here for you."

Worried that tears would surely escape if she spoke out in gratitude, Emily settled with a single squeeze of his hand that spoke volumes. They ate in silence for a while, but the silence was not without reflection.

Emily had played the guessing game more than her fair share of times, and she guessed – she _guessed_ – Hotch had, too. She'd had her doubts, sure; it was only normal. After all, as everyone seemed so eager to remind them, eight years was a _long_ time. Settings changed, friendships and relationships changed. People changed.

People got married, had children, were recent divorcées. And after all that, people were brought back together by something reminiscent to fate – to a job that made everything too difficult to believe.

Emily had frequently wondered at how readily they had fallen into each other's arms that first night. It was supposed to have been a nice catch-up dinner, nothing more. Then again, Emily told herself, they had always been obsessed with one another, with the taste of the other's body.

Quite frankly, they had rushed into bed all too soon, and it had made Emily…not nervous, but anxious. She remembered their first conversation about Haley and Jack, and how she had assumed he was a different man entirely.

Emily smiled to herself. The fact of the matter was that he was still the very same gentleman she had fallen in love with all those years and weeks and days and kisses ago. His concern for her proved that. And she couldn't have been happier, now that she knew he would forever provide her with the most perfect saving grace.

"Aaron," she said after a too-long stretch of time had passed. Emily cleared her suddenly dry throat, then mustered a small smile. She was ready to talk; she trusted him. "Did Clyde ever give you my personnel file and letter of recommendation?"

_Clyde?_ Hotch mulled over the name, simultaneously relaxing at the sound of Emily's voice. _Who is…_ "Oh, Agent Easter, your old boss?" She nodded. "He did, finally. About a week ago."

"So you've read about my past, and what experiences I've had." It was not a question.

"Yes."

Emily shivered, and it wasn't because there was a draft in the tastefully lit restaurant. "Then you know I did some time with the CIA, and with Interpol." Hotch gave no answer, not even a nod. He simply waited for her to continue. "I was with Interpol at the time; with a little group known as JTF-12. One of our cases…went sour. We used infiltration, as I'm sure you know…and infiltration had never been my cup of tea." She downcast her gaze. "But I was good at it. And that's what counted in the end." There was a long pause, and for a minute, Hotch had figured she was done talking. But Emily proved him wrong. "Long story short, shit happened." Her expression was blank. "Everything that could have gone wrong did. That case, it changed me, and I can't entirely say for the better. I'm no longer…scared."

Her eyes bore holes into his. "I don't want to become jaded, Aaron," she practically pleaded.

"I won't let you," he whispered.

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._ A little choked gasp slipped out from between Emily's lips. "You haven't changed," she breathed. "You're still…a gentleman."

"I'd like to hope so, yes," Hotch said humbly.

Emily picked at her almost-finished dinner. "I don't want to talk about the job anymore," she said eventually. "I actually want to talk about anything _but _the job. Like…you." She tilted her head to the side, eyes dark and cloudy. "It's your turn to catch me up on the highlights of your past eight years. God knows, one thing that hasn't changed about me is that I still talk to much."

That made them both laugh, breaking the thin layer of ice that had been trying to come between them. "What can I say?" he mused. "You've met the biggest thing to happen to me; my all-time favorite highlight. Jack is…the best and most exhausting thing that has ever happened to me."

"You're a wonderful father," Emily said sweetly. "Though I'm sure I didn't need to tell you that."

Hotch's gaze was soft now. "That actually makes me feel really good, Emily. It's something I've wanted since I was very young; to be a better father – I mean, a _good_ father…"

His voice trailed away.

Emily's heart skipped a painful beat. "Aaron…"

"I wanted to be a better father than mine could ever be," Hotch whispered, and Emily was almost scared at how easily she could imagine a shy school-age Aaron Hotchner with bright, burning eyes; eyes that had undoubtedly seen things they shouldn't have. "Do you remember…the park I took you to?" _Our special place._

"Yes." How could she not? It had been the one setting that had never left her memory, that was always clear as day.

She guessed his next words before they were even spoken. "Do you remember…talking about my dad?" It was Hotch's turn to stare at his food. "I didn't tell you everything about him, even though I wanted to. But I did promise myself I would tell you about him one day."

"I'm here, Aaron," she whispered. "I'm listening."

Their hands were still intertwined when Hotch spoke once more. "My father passed away when I was thirteen. He was never…_okay_. He fought in Vietnam when he was young, maybe too young. And when the war was over, he just wasn't the same. Looking back on it now, I want to be able to chalk his behavior up to PTSD. But…" He let out a long, defeated sigh. "He hurt my mother. When Sean was little, he hurt him, too. He was my _baby brother_, Emily. I would've done nearly anything to protect him. So I took the fall for him, and got more than my fair share of cuts and bruises in result."

His hand trembled slightly, causing Emily to grip it tighter. "The really _twisted_ thing is, I didn't hate him. When I was maybe Jack's age, I actually looked up to the man. I wanted to be like him; strong, fearless, a soldier." He gave a humorless laugh. "Until I grew up and realized that my dad's wasn't nearly as idealized a life as I thought it was."

Emily gazed into his saddened eyes. "That doesn't make you a bad person," she said earnestly. "At the end of the day, he was your father. I'm not going to make excuses for his behavior…but you don't have to make excuses for yours, either."

"I just wanted a family," Hotch said brokenly, wondering how in the hell their conversation had become so serious; he couldn't stop himself from talking. There was just something about her that was so inherently comforting. "I wanted a family, and with Haley and Jack, I really thought I was where I wanted to be in life. At least…for four years, I thought I was." Finally, he mustered the courage to look up at her and give a small smile. "Well, now that we're both sufficiently depressed…"

Emily chuckled indulgently. "I wouldn't say I'm depressed; just happy to know that you trust me enough to tell me these things," she answered sweetly.

"Of course."

Emily's smile gradually turned serene and maybe even wistful as she fell deeper into thought. "Is she pretty?"

Emily had to admit, she was harboring the tiniest bit of jealousy, albeit in a naïve way. Haley'd had what she probably wouldn't ever…probably. She imagined they looked like the picture-perfect, nuclear family. She could see the Christmas cards now: _Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and a prosperous New Year. With love, Aaron, Haley, and Jack Hotchner._

The oddest thoughts flicked through Emily's mind in rapid succession. Briefly, she wondered if Hotch liked his blondes; at least, she assumed Haley was blonde, if Jack's gorgeous hair was any indication.

But then again, she really had to _stop_ making assumptions.

_Is she pretty?_ Hotch pictured Haley in his mind's eye, when he had first met her; before her gaze had turned hard, before lines marred her previously permanent smile. With soft blonde hair, rosy cheeks and peach-colored skin, and hazel eyes, she had been the image of spring and summer sun.

But Hotch had always been a little…darker, a little colder.

"She is, I suppose," he finally said, and it was Emily's perceptive eyes that caught the slight change in his behavior. A casual tensing of his shoulders, a sharpening of the lines of his jaw. He was uncomfortable, and Emily knew her constant questioning of _"Are you okay?" _had not been futile.

Hotch's gaze was smoldering when it locked onto Emily's. "But she can't compare to you." Summer and winter, sun and moon, light and dark.

Emily's laugh – and her smile – was sultry. "I bet that's what you say to all your lady friends," she teased.

He snorted. "Oh, yeah. All my lady friends, of which I only have one: you."

"…again, I bet that's what you tell all your lady friends."

Hotch's laughter was free and comforting, but there was still a somewhat distant look in his eyes. The conversation _had_ made him uncomfortable; it was as if Haley was everywhere. He couldn't escape, even though all he wanted was…Emily. "Did you want to order dessert?"

"Not if you weren't planning on getting something for yourself, or to share, no." Emily hummed contentedly as she finished her wine.

"How about a piece of cheesecake to-go?"

Emily leaned into his palm as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek gently in the process. "I didn't even know they had cheesecake. To-go sounds perfect," she murmured.

"Come on, then," Hotch said, waving their waiter over. "I'll drive you back to your place, Em."

~.~.~

He hadn't meant to ravish her against her front door, he really hadn't. But before Hotch knew it, all of the day's pent-up conflict and confusion had broken loose, resulting in a flat out, ecstatic scream of _"Aaron!"_from Emily's delicious red lips.

Maybe Emily had been wrong. Hotch couldn't help but wonder as he lifted her, sticky and sexy as hell, into his arms and moved toward her bedroom. Maybe he _had_ changed, after all; and maybe she was seeing that now, with her soft black dress having fallen victim to his strong, unyielding hands.

"Our cheesecake," Emily panted dazedly, as he laid her reverently atop the bed. "We should put it in the fridge."

"Because _cheesecake_ was exactly what I was thinking about right now," Hotch growled, nipping at her skin playfully.

Emily's gasp was music to his ears as he slipped inside her once more, his newfound rhythm agonizingly slow. "I'm going to guess it wasn't," she breathed.

"Smart woman."

_"Oh."_ Emily was certain she was about to go insane. Missionary was far from her favorite position – and besides, they had done far naughtier things in their time – but she was no stranger to Hotch's body, so she was not the least bit surprised that he was making her feel so good. Their coupling wasn't entirely sweet, however. With her tongue and teeth busy at the shell of Hotch's ear, she didn't notice him burying his face in the crook of her neck until her thoughts all connected together and painted a less than perfect picture in her mind.

It was almost like he was avoiding eye contact. Emily wanted to dwell further on the subject, but couldn't; not when her fingernails were scarring his back, when his thrusting became possessed and his kisses feverish. They _had been_ making love…but now? Both were coming apart sooner than they might have hoped.

That didn't mean they weren't more than satisfied. Emily practically purred as the aftershocks of her second orgasm – because yes, there were aftershocks – rocked her gorgeous body. Hotch held her tightly against his chest, shaking along with her; though, perhaps, for different reasons.

It wasn't long before Emily spoke. She just couldn't contain it any longer. "Tell me what's bothering you," she whispered, one hand coming up to caress the side of his face.

Immediately, Hotch was brought back to a time when he could have told Emily anything and everything, without keeping any grim secrets. He found that he missed that; and somehow, he knew Emily did, too. He guessed she was remembering the same moment he was, a rare moment of weakness in his past when he had recounted their most recent case…and how he had accidentally killed the wrong scumbag. It had shaken him to his very core, but Emily had brought him back. She had loved him when he had felt unlovable.

He wondered if she would be able to do that now.

"Earlier, when we were talking at dinner, you said something that reminded me of…Haley," Hotch finally murmured, after a long stretch of time that had convinced Emily he had fallen asleep. "I mean, _you_ didn't remind me of her," he said quickly, "you just…mentioned her, and I couldn't stop thinking about earlier today." He rested his lips against her temple, humming as Emily tucked in closer to his body.

A sigh was the next thing Emily heard. And then: "Haley's been acting weirdly lately."

Any other woman would have said or at least thought something along the lines of _"Okay, forget I asked, you can stop talking now"_; because which woman wanted to hear that their lover and possible boyfriend had been thinking about another woman – his ex-wife, no less – right after sex? Emily, however, simply fell quiet. "I'm sorry," she said evenly. She just had this niggling feeling it was because of her.

Hotch's eyes were obviously wide, even in the dark. "Don't be," he implored. "You have no reason to be."

Emily thought of little Jack, whom she had clearly heard expressing his eagerness while she had been on the phone with Hotch. Haley mustn't have been too pleased. "But –"

"Really." He fitted his mouth over hers in a chaste kiss that still had the ability to send a rush of hazy contentment through her body.

Emily murmured her approval as Hotch pulled the covers over their intertwined bodies. She loved that he felt the need to be the big strong man with the brave face for everyone; but she loved it even more when they had their deep, soothing conversations. They saw each other at the weakest points, but were able to provide the strength necessary to heal the other. It was…great.

"Okay," Emily said against Hotch's chest. Yawning discreetly, she waited until their breathing patterns were the same before asking one last thing. "Do you think you can stay the night?"

Hotch's hands moved lazily from her mussed locks down to her bare spine, but not before brushing a finger against the bandage still covering her graze wound. It made him wince, the memories of that case. It scared him. It scarred him. "Yeah," he said eventually, once Emily had already fallen asleep. His voice sounded distant to his own ears, as if he were simply…slipping away. "Yeah, I can stay."

When his eyes fell closed, Hotch was not the least bit surprised to feel a single hot tear slide down his cheek. "Good night, Emily. Sweet dreams."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong><strong><strong>Got a question or a suggestion, or even just some random thoughts? I'd love to hear from you! <strong>If you have the time, please leave a review; no matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they are always appreciated! :)<strong>********


	30. A Blessing and a Curse

**Author's Note: The chapters are getting longer and longer, yet the drama and angst are only just beginning. But you know what? You all have got to be the most perceptive, amazing readers ever - your comments after each chapter make it seem like you're reading my mind and outlining the story along with me. And I appreciate that, because you all have stuck with me and this crazy story, and I couldn't be happier. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this installment! It gets even crazier after this...so hold on tight.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>As much as Emily wanted to deny it, she couldn't honestly tell herself she was surprised when she woke up the next morning – and Hotch wasn't there.<p>

A letter had taken his place; a letter and a crayoned drawing that had filled Emily with too many emotions to count. _Emily, _she read, her vision blurred for whatever reason, _I had a truly wonderful time with you last night. You've always had this way of making me feel better. It slipped my mind when we were at dinner, but Jack was ecstatic when he came home from daycare with a special drawing in hand. I promised him I'd give it to you. I think it would mean the world to him if you put it on your fridge; you know how sweet he is. Anyway, don't worry about our cheesecake, I made sure to refrigerate it. Enjoy it. I'll see you at work, Em._

_Yours, Aaron._

Yours. Emily frowned. Nowhere in the letter did he mention a reason for leaving early, not staying the night when he'd said he would. It wasn't as if he owed her an explanation; they were adults, for God's sake. Emily was just…curious. And very bereft.

She hadn't needed to read the letter more than once to be spurred to put Jack's drawing on her fridge, however – to frame it, even. It had been the first thing she'd wanted to do, proudly display it in her minimally decorated apartment. The pops of colors and absurdly shaped stick figures made her inexplicably happy. The drawing made her feel like a part of something.

It made her feel like part of a…family.

So Emily had tacked the drawing on the middle of her fridge, and eaten half of the slice of cheesecake – perfectly refrigerated and not stale at all – for breakfast.

That had been two weeks ago.

Emily sighed heavily just thinking about it. It was almost as if they were living their lives in two-week increments. And, like clockwork, on the fourteenth day, one of them _always_ slipped up.

But not this time.

Emily was suddenly angry. If 'taking it slowly' meant never saying an unprofessional word to one another for two, going on three weeks, then to hell with taking it slowly! She wasn't asking for someone to fall into bed with every night; she wasn't asking for another friends-with-benefits arrangement. What she did want was a true relationship…a second chance at something she had regretfully given up eight, nine years prior.

_"Haley's been acting weirdly,"_ he had said. Evidently, she wasn't the only one. It was infuriating; men, in general, were infuriating. Emily smirked. Especially alpha males…and God, she'd dealt with enough alpha males to last her a lifetime.

But, in her mind, one had always risen above the others. Aaron Hotchner had always made her feel beautiful when she felt anything but. And while she had never been a vain woman, Emily longed to feel that way again. As silly and self-obsessed as it might have sounded to anyone else's ears, Emily simply wanted Hotch to think she was beautiful again.

She wondered if Haley felt the same way.

She bit back a groan. She wasn't even supposed to _care_ about Haley! Emily just wanted herself and Hotch to be okay. They were acting like an old and bickering married couple; except she doubted either of them knew what was plaguing the other.

It was after a minute of more pondering that Emily sprung into action. There was a certain beauty to showering right before bed; it gave her an extra ten minutes in the morning, ten minutes Emily was determined to put to good use. By the time her curling iron was at the perfect temperature, Emily already had her day's outfit lying out on her bed. She wondered what Hotch would think of the ensemble; a baby pink cashmere blouse matched with perfectly pressed black slacks and her favorite peep-toe pumps. The shoes were the cherry on top of the sundae, just the right amount of femininity and sex appeal in relation to the rest of her no-nonsense outfit.

Looking down at her heel-clad feet, however, something stood out to Emily; her toenails. She had never really been a girly girl. She remembered preferring guitar and drum lessons to her mother's proffered ballet. By result of a compromise, a young Emily had taken both…and had actually been quite good at ballet. She later used her flexibility for more rewarding conquests, however, the most recent of which had been sparring – on the mats of the Academy gym _and_ between her high thread count sheets.

There had even been talk of a debutante ball, Emily recounted with a cringe. It had never manifested as a really serious idea for the Prentiss family, though, especially when Emily had realized that her only potential date would have been John Cooley.

And there was no way in heaven or hell that would have happened.

Shaking away the less than pleasant memories, Emily gazed intently at her reflection as she wrapped one lock of hair after another on the dangerously hot iron. She had never really been a girl girly; but there was just something so de-stressing about manicure and pedicure.

With her peep-toe pumps, Emily wanted one now – and she didn't want to go alone. She had a _family_ now, albeit an unbiological one. All of a sudden, Emily had an all-encompassing urge to invite JJ and Penelope – who, Morgan was convinced, were her long lost sisters – for a girls' night out. Dinner, a movie, shopping…it would be the perfect time for some much needed indulgence. Already, she valued their friendship – and she wanted them to know that.

Besides…there was so much that Emily felt needed to be said. Profiling was both a blessing and a curse; there was a part of Emily that hated that she could read his behavior. She almost wished she had the gift of being blissfully oblivious…_almost_. With the girls, she would be able to unload some of the stress that had been accumulated over the past two weeks; ever since she had read _Yours, Aaron_ at the end of that damned letter.

Emily couldn't wait.

With her hair finally curled in loose ringlets determined to drive any man mad, Emily tossed one last glance at her reflection in the pristine mirror. She _felt_ beautiful, and she was certainly dressed to kill…

…or, at the very least, dressed to impress.

~.~.~

Hotch was infinitely more than just impressed. Starstruck seemed fitting for his current situation. He was well aware that they hadn't gone on a date or even grabbed a quick, completely professional lunch together across the street in more than two weeks; all they'd had was a dry shot of humor in passing, a casual and completely coincidental choice of seating on the jet, purposeful partnering in the field, a rare smile, a laugh –

He stopped. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd made her laugh.

The fact of the matter was, they had too many excuses just waiting to be used: the priority of the job, namely. Hotch felt so _guilty _for letting Haley's words have any influence on him at all, when he had sworn he would do just the opposite. But he felt guilty for other things, too. He hated that any distance whatsoever had come between them, at his fault no less. He hated…a lot of things.

If he were honest with himself, Hotch knew that he regretted allowing himself to fall into bed with Emily that first night. And how was he supposed to communicate that to her without sounding like an asshole? After all, he didn't _really_ regret the action…he just wished he could have refrained from thinking solely in the present. If they had waited…would it have been sweeter?

Hotch didn't know. At the moment, he felt like he didn't know anything. He didn't know how on Earth his and Emily's…relationship already had such an effect on him and his judgment in the field; her graze was evidence enough of that. He didn't know if he felt…responsible for that.

He didn't know what Haley was feeling, either, or why he cared. He wondered at the intention behind her seemingly innocent words.

He wondered how he had ended up in the situation he was in now. For a man who loved order and control over his own life – and Aaron Hotchner was that man –, he was in utter chaos. Because there was only one thing he knew for sure; other than the innate truth that Jack meant the world to him.

In that pink blouse, Emily looked beyond gorgeous. Gazing at her for longer than he should only served to deepen the grave he was already digging for himself. There was the guilt again; but through it all, Hotch swore to himself he would never do anything to hurt her. Emily Prentiss was a treasure, one that practically threatened to blind him. That much he had known since 1998.

It was with a heavy sigh that Hotch finally closed his blinds and looked away from the beauty who had long since stolen his heart. After all, he had work to do, very important work.

The distractions could – and would – come later.

~.~.~

Emily tried not to react when she saw Hotch draw his blinds closed. She was sure she was being discreet enough, with her office chair casually tilted at just the perfect angle to sneak a cursory glance every other minute or so. It wasn't as if she couldn't see anything at all. If she focused on Hotch's office for long enough, she could make out the handsome man's silhouette. He was frowning, she noticed, as he spoke lowly into his office phone. She wondered if he was troubled; she wondered if she could do anything to help.

She wondered if he would even approach her if she could.

So deep in concentration was Emily that she didn't notice she had stopped being discreet…and that Rossi had left his own office to sit at the desk right in front of her. Once she _did_ notice, however, it was much too late.

"He's been making a lot of phone calls lately, hasn't he?"

Having been caught, Emily couldn't prevent from blushing a little. "I guess," she said disinterestedly, giving an elegant shrug of her shoulders. If she was right in her assumption – and more often than not, she was –, Emily could see he needed his space. And God, with this job and coworkers who read into your behavior better than anyone else, Emily really did understand. She respected that. After all, she didn't want to seem like _that _kind of girlfriend; clingy, stifling, attention-hungry. She liked to believe she was just the opposite.

Above all, Emily trusted Hotch to talk to her about whatever was on his mind _when he was comfortable._ They had done so more times than could be counted in their past. She hoped he knew that, no matter what else changed, that trust wouldn't.

It made her smile a little.

All the while, Rossi remained seated at the very same desk – Morgan's desk, as it was – and watched her, wondering just what situation she and Hotch had found themselves in. He hoped it was a good one…but he _was_ a profiler.

"You, uh…" Emily's head snapped up, "seem to me to be the kind of person who doesn't really like surprises. Am I right?"

Emily's eyes narrowed at the non sequitur. "You're right; I'm not. Why do you ask?"

"I figured," he murmured. Rossi gave her an amused half-smile. There was a contemplative pause, and then: "Garcia made you a cake. Since today is the one month mark of you being on the team."

Emily breathed out a quick laugh. "I'm…flattered. Though I _am _very glad you told me, so thank you." She sighed. "I love Garcia," she said after a while. "She's so sweet and bubbly and thoughtful. And it's not that I don't like surprises. I just…don't particularly like being at the center of attention," she finished quietly.

He nodded his understanding. "I'm the same way."

"Really?" Emily regarded him with curious interest. "Are you a different David Rossi, then? As in, _not_ the best selling author whom the media adores?"

It was Rossi's turn to laugh. "You do what you have to do to get your books sold. But no, when I came back to the Bureau after previously 'retiring', it was all any agent anywhere ever talked about. It got tiring, you know? The questions, the absence of privacy, the _prying_…it was enough to make me contemplate retiring again."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because…I realized, after a while, that I was more married to this job than I have ever been to three ex-wives." His smile was rueful this time. "The job likes doing that; being the ultimate priority and taking up what should be precious private time."

Emily gave a humorless laugh. "Don't I know it," she said evenly.

"But…I'd like to think we get something in return. We're a family, you know? A very perceptive and educated and sometimes very nosy family…but a family nonetheless. We all care about one another in our own different ways."

"We do," Emily said tinily, with a slow nod. "I do." And even though she had been trying to take her mind off of him, she began to think of the man behind closed blinds once more. They all had different ways of showing affection, and she was very okay with that. She just wished Hotch realized it.

"I do, too." Suddenly, Rossi grew more serious, and his voice grew soft. "Listen, Prentiss…Emily," he corrected, as she looked up at him with a less than impressed expression on her face. "I know you're not new to this lifestyle. In fact, you might be more experienced than some of us. But even after a month at the Bureau, there are still a lot of things to experience…both good and bad. " He shrugged. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you ever want to talk…you just find one of us, no matter the time. You give us a call, you drop by our place…because we're _family_."

There was a pause. "But this applies for everyone on this team, so don't be going and thinking that you're special or anything," he jabbed.

Emily chuckled. "Gee thanks, Rossi," she droned, though her eyes were shining with mirth. She knew what he was getting at; neither one of them liked attention or surprises, but she knew a friend's offer of sanctuary when she heard one. It might have applied to anyone…but in that moment, Emily knew that David Rossi was offering to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on at any hour. He was Hotch's best friend and mentor; but she had the niggling feeling that he would be her faithful confidant someday. Someday soon.

"Yeah, well. What can I say?" he cracked, chuckling a little himself.

"But…really. Thank you," Emily said, after she was sure she had made the conversation sufficiently awkward with her deafening silence. "I'll have to take you up on that offer soon," she admitted.

"Of course. My door's always open," he said, nodding up to his office.

Having said what he had been meaning to say for much too long, Rossi made to leave the bullpen. But before he could leave, Emily stuttered out an impromptu question. She wanted to busy herself…and she wanted an excuse to speak to Hotch in his currently isolated office. "I-I was about to go down and make a Starbucks run, my treat. Do you…do you want anything? Coffee, tea?"

Rossi looked at her for a while, and it was as if he could read her mind. They were profilers, after all; maybe the theory wasn't as farfetched as it seemed. Eventually, he caved, responding with something along the lines of 'caramel macchiato' and 'steamed milk'. He liked the new girl and he certainly liked his old friend…and eight years ago, he had been sure things would work out between them in the end.

If this was the chance that Emily Prentiss had been waiting for, then…who was he to say no?

~.~.~

Having delivered five coffees to her teammates, the most exorbitant of which had been Garcia's – a half-caf extra shot venti two pump non-fat hold the whip caramel macchiato –, Emily found herself with one more steaming beverage in her hands; and one more teammate to visit.

She was happy, though. The girls had been more than excited when she had approached them about a night out come Friday. "It's Tuesday and everyone already feels gross," she had told them; and it had been the truth. The prospect of Emily filling them in on gossip - though she had never really been_ that_ kind of woman - was enough to titillate both JJ and Garcia. They couldn't wait.

And neither could Emily. It had been a long time since she had last gone out on the town with women like herself. Tsia had always gotten bored...and after all, Clyde had kept her more than busy, so it wasn't as if she'd had a plethora of free time to begin with.

Emily shook her head to clear her mind of the memories - for now, at least - and it was with a trace of a smile on her face that Emily brought her hand to Hotch's door...and knocked.

"Come in."

She did just that, her smile growing even larger as Hotch's face brightened at the sight of what he was sure was a cup of fragrant coffee...just for him. "Hey," she greeted casually. "I had this desire for Starbucks and was certain I wasn't the only one. So I asked around, got everyone's orders...everyone's except for yours. You were on the phone, your door and blinds were closed...I didn't want to disturb you. I just thought...maybe you still liked your coffee the way I remembered you used to." _Black with a touch of cream. _"If you don't, I could always get you something else, I mean –"

He interrupted her by gratefully taking the warmed cup from her hands, making sure his fingers rested atop hers for long enough for her to understand his gratitude...and other things. "I do still like my coffee the same way," he assured, rewarding her with a small smile and a flash of a dimple. "Thank you, Emily."

"O-of course. I'm glad I remembered, then." Their similarly amused gazes met and it was as if things were back to normal for them...not that things had been abnormal.

They were just confused, confused about too many things to count.

"Why don't you sit down?" he offered, motioning hopefully to one of his office chairs. "We can...talk."

"Oh, well actually, I was going to –" She stopped, watching as he stood and came around his desk, approaching her slowly enough to build her anticipation. "I have a lot of work," she sputtered lamely, not even really sure why she was making up excuses. This is what she'd wanted; to sit down with him, to talk about nothing and everything...

To kiss him. Emily sighed against his mouth as he captured her lips with his in a gentle, lazy embrace. She wasn't going to lie; she had missed this more than she probably should have. They just had this _fit_ together…a perfect fit of mouths, curves, limbs. He made her feel complete.

She made him feel special, though Emily didn't know that. In fact, there was a lot about Aaron Hotchner she didn't know. But she didn't dwell on that for any longer. How could she, when they had found their way to the couch and when his hard body was draped over hers, pressing her back into the smooth black leather? It was exhilarating, dangerous, perfect.

A methodical man through and through, Hotch didn't settle with just one kiss. Emily eventually lost count, simply reveling in what seemed to be a flashback to adolescence; a good old-fashioned make-out session when they should have been doing anything else. It was when Hotch's searing mouth found its way to her throat that she had to stop him.

"But you love it when I kiss your neck," he rumbled into her ear. He smiled handsomely, his eyes dark and enchanting. "Don't you?"

"Yes," she groaned, pushing herself up into a sitting position and running a hand over her blouse. "But not when I don't have my concealer with me," she said almost sadly.

Oh. Right.

For a minute, a long lovely minute, Hotch had been able to forget all about work, about his and Haley's most recent conversation, about gruesome cases and murders and the fact that he couldn't wake up to Emily's beautiful face each morning. But now, he could hear it once more; the chatter of agents milling around in the bullpen, the occasional laugh, the sound of computers and fingers clacking away at keyboards. The sound of work.

He sighed, though not sadly, and brushed a curl from Emily's face before resting his forehead against hers. "You look beautiful today," he whispered, and she almost didn't hear him. "So beautiful. That's not to say that you don't everyday, but today…" Hotch shook his head a little, bowed his head as he rose to his feet. "Today, you look stunning."

Emily's heart was soaring as she breathed out a quick laugh. "You don't look half bad yourself, Hotchner." She cocked her head to the side. "Might want to start drinking that coffee of yours, before it gets cold and disgusting."

"I was…a little preoccupied."

"You and me both."

"Speaking of us both..." Hotch cringed as Emily laughed at his corny segue. "I miss lounging around with you. The moment our schedules clear up, we should do dinner." Hotch was surprised at how nervous he was. It wasn't as if he were asking her out for the first time...so what was with all the butterflies?

"Dinner sounds good," Emily replied, playing it cool.

"Not just dinner," Hotch said immediately, suddenly...impassioned. "I want to go somewhere special with you, maybe go out for a movie...and other things, whatever other things you'd like."

"Somewhere special," Emily echoed almost dreamily. "Like where?"

"Telling you would ruin all the fun of anticipation, now wouldn't it?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, but still murmured, "I hate it when you're right."

"You must hate me pretty often then," he said cheekily, outright grinning at Emily's laughter.

The lighthearted banter continued for about a minute longer before Emily had her hand on the office door, ready to head back to her desk. Making people suspicious was the last thing they wanted to do...but the dark-haired couple knew there was something they were skirting around...and before Hotch could mention it himself, Emily beat him to the punch, her other hand finding and squeezing his shoulder affectionately.

"You know, I think you brought this up about a week or two ago...that it feels like all we've been doing is talking." _And making love as a means to distract one another and stall further conversations_, a mean but regretfully true voice whispered from the back of her mind. "But...I like that that hasn't changed, even eight years later; our ability to trust and be open to another."

"I love it," he murmured, gazing into her expressive eyes.

"You and I, we're both good listeners." She swallowed. "So...you can talk to me about anything. I hope you know that," she said gently, earnestly.

"I should be the one telling you that," Hotch said wryly, though he was fairly certain his heart had stopped beating. "Look at me, Emily. You're the best listener, _my _best listener. I really do value and appreciate that."

Before she could filter her thoughts, Emily was saying something she felt she would regret; or at least, be embarrassed by. "So tell me what you meant when you told me Haley was acting weirdly."

There it was, finally out in the open.

Emily's eyes widened imperceptibly. "I'm...sorry, that's none of my business."

But he was already shaking his head. "Don't apologize. I just, I don't really know what's going through her head and influencing her behavior, and I want to – for me, for us. Not to make her sound like some kind of experiment or something." He swallowed, backtracked, rephrased. "I could be wrong but I think she's...jealous."

"She didn't want to get divorced," Emily said, and it wasn't a question.

"No."

"Well...she shouldn't take it out on you." Emily was aware she was being too simple, too naïve. But she trucked on forward anyway. "By signing those divorce papers, she technically uncontestedly acknowledged - I mean, she _did_ acknowledge - that you two were parting ways. Starting over."

"I know. But quite frankly, I'd rather she take it out on me than on Jack," Hotch said, and the expression on his face was clearly troubled.

"Would she?"

Again, Hotch sighed, ignoring her question. "Or on you," he finished.

Emily's expression softened. "You're doing it again," she noted.

"Doing what?"

"Putting on a brave face for everyone." Emily hummed a little. "You've always been a gentleman," she chuckled to herself. "Of course."

His lips twitched into a half-smile. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"I suppose not. You've got a bit of an ego on you, though, Mister. It wouldn't hurt you to let go of the controls every once and a while, you know? Let someone...let me help."

"If there's anything you can do, I'll let you know," he vowed, before stealing one last kiss. He wondered if it should have bothered him; letting Haley's words get to him, letting Emily have such a big influence on him. He was an alpha _male_; he liked his control. But for Emily...he supposed he could let go of the reigns just once.

With Haley, however...things were entirely and intricately different, more difficult.

Emily left his office with a smile on her face, and she was happy to say it wasn't fake; they had spoken about what had been worrying her for two straight weeks. They would undoubtedly speak more about it later, when the workday or workweek was over. But as for now? There was a medley of things she had to get done.

The rest of the team apparently had another idea; because, the moment she exited her boss's and lover's office, she was greeted with five beaming faces and a cake decorated with chocolate shavings and pink icing. Emily caught Rossi's sardonic gaze for a single silent second...and then...

_"Surprise!"_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Please leave a review, if you have the time - even just a word or two! <strong>**I'd love to know what you think so far; so much of your suggestions and questions have inspired several parts of this story, and I thank you for that. Also...**

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><p><em><strong>Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>_

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction.**

**net/topic/74868/69379386/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2011, and Aug. 31st, 2012, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**

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><p><strong>My sincerest thanks in advance!<strong>


	31. Mambo Italiano

**Author's Note: I'm sorry it's taking an even longer time between updates now. My classes started a couple days ago, and I already have so much assigned busy work. I will not let this story fall through the cracks, however; I love it and you all way too much to let that happen! So anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me thus far. I hope you enjoy this chapter - it's filled with more team interaction, some brief Hotch/Emily loving, and, well...the calm before the storm.  
><strong>

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>It was two days and nights later when Emily took Rossi up on his offer. Admittedly, she had thought she would last longer than a measly forty-eight hours; it wasn't even as if there was anything she was dying to say! Not anymore, not when she was sure she and Hotch would be able to work things out. She was going to remain confident, optimistic…hopeful. There was no point in worrying about complications she wasn't even sure existed.<p>

Nonetheless, she found herself on her colleague's doorstep; her colleague who seemed not at all surprised to see her there. Rather, David Rossi almost looked as if he had been expecting her to drop by that night, for the first words out of his mouth were, "Come in, come in, I was just making dinner."

Emily tried not to stare too much as she stepped awkwardly into the seasoned profiler's home. It wasn't as if she was a stranger to the life of luxury…but Rossi's mansion – because it was a mansion, and nothing less – was one of the most impressive and tastefully decorated she had ever come across. She was quietly admiring his collection of first edition novels on the mantel when Rossi spoke once more.

"I hope this isn't the highlight of your week," he said with a laugh. "Please tell me you have something better to do on a Thursday night, especially one when we don't have a case." _Yet_, was the unspoken and unnecessary word.

Emily turned to face him and shrugged, chuckling all the while. "Sadly, no," she jabbed sarcastically. "Not tonight. Tomorrow night, on the other hand, JJ, Garcia, and I have plans." She pulled her maroon colored sweater tighter around her frame for the sole purpose of giving her hands something to do. "But tonight…"

Her voice trailed away. Her thoughts, however, rested solely on a man she was sure was still cooped up in his office.

However, veteran profiler that he was, Rossi knew she wanted something to busy herself with; something that would work to keep her mind off of _him_. And so, it was without a second of hesitation or any conscious thought that he held something out to her in offering.

That something was a ladle.

"Want to help me cook?"

It took Emily a while to process his offer – David Rossi seemed to be a very offering man, she noticed – but when the kind intention behind his simple question finally met her ears, she broke out into a broad grin, and gladly took the kitchen utensil from his noticeably course hands. "I would _love_ to. What are we making?"

"Baked ziti in Mornay sauce and, of course, spaghetti. My grandmother's recipe." He didn't have to look behind him to know that Emily was following him as he strode back into his well used yet gleaming kitchen. His smile was a proud one when he murmured something to himself. "Tale è il modo in cui delle famiglie italiane. Io amo la cultura."

"Così faccio." Emily smirked when he looked at her with pleasant surprise written clear across his face. "Italiani sono persone meravigliose. E il loro cibo è eccellente."

Rossi folded his arms across his chest. "Okay, I'm impressed," he praised. "Even your accent is spot-on. Do you have Italian family or is this yet another result of your travels with your mother?"

"The latter." Emily hummed as the delightful, rich smell of simmering spaghetti sauce flooded her senses. "Out of all the countries, I especially loved Italy. And France, and Germany...but there was just _something _about Italy. I meant what I just said; lovely people, lovely food."

"I would have to agree," Rossi said with a reminiscent nod. "Now...grab a spoon and have a taste of that sauce, and tell me what you think: more garlic or more oregano?"

~.~.~

It was after much more small talk, and after dinner was placed on the table, that Rossi cleared his throat, becoming almost serious. Almost. They'd had their fun and games; now, it was time to address what Emily kept skirting around.

"So…" Rossi began, refilling her glass of white wine. "Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?"

Emily stared at the strands of angel hair on her plate for a good while before answering earnestly. "You know…I'm not even sure. I don't have that overwhelming urge to speak my mind. Not anymore, not now that Aaron and I – _Hotch_ and I – have already spoken. Granted, we didn't talk about everything…but we're making progress," she said simply.

"That's good to hear. How are you two?"

"We're good," was Emily's immediate answer. "At least, I'd like to think we are. We…rushed back into things, when I came back a month ago. But we were working through it."

Rossi met her gaze. "Until…"

A quiet sigh slipped past her lips. "Until I dropped by unannounced one night, not knowing he had Jack that weekend." She contemplated saying more, then took a bite of her food and laughed. "I don't even really know why I'm telling you this. I don't usually talk this much; to people I haven't known for forever, that is. It's probably the wine," she fibbed. "In vino veritas, right?"

"'In wine, there is truth'," Rossi mused. "Absolutely." He was sure she wasn't done speaking, however.

And he was right. "Or maybe it's something else. You said it yourself; we're a family now. And I like that. I like knowing that there are people I can fall back on if I ever need to. Anyway." Once again, nervous and awkward laughter reigned. "Jack…he's the sweetest boy in the world. But Haley…according to what I've heard, Haley wasn't too thrilled that her son was with some random woman that night."

"You think she's jealous." It wasn't a question.

There was a pause. "I think I would be. I mean, she just wanted to make sure her son was safe and…" _And that her husband had no female company._ Emily cleared her throat. "It's understandable, is all I'm saying." There was something about her voice, though…something unsure. Rossi picked up on it easily, hitting the nail on its head in one try.

"You don't have to validate everyone's actions, Emily," he said perceptively. "That's not your job. All you have to do is think and act for yourself."

Silence fell over the dinner table.

"That's the best advice anyone has told me in a while," Emily said quietly.

"Well, that's why you dropped by, isn't it?" Rossi joked, lightening the mood and digging into his own dinner – finally.

"Yes. That and the food, of course," Emily tossed right back.

Rossi let out a belly laugh. "_Of course,"_ he mocked with a good-natured roll of his eyes. "Buon appetito."

~.~.~

Hotch stared at his cell phone as it rang incessantly for the second time in a row. It was a Friday, late in the afternoon…so late, in fact, that he and Rossi were the only profilers left in the building. All he wanted to do was finish his paperwork and go home to relax, maybe even with Emily.

But Haley wouldn't leave him alone.

He wasn't about to be hypocritical toward her; after all, he, too, knew just how difficult it was to move on. But to clutter his phone with voicemail after voicemail? It just wasn't necessary. It wasn't helping either of them, that was for sure.

Evidently, Hotch's frustration and annoyance were written deep into his features, because, when Rossi entered his friend's office, he immediately knew something was wrong. There was a certain tension in the air…it was so thick he could almost taste it on his tongue.

Rossi silently arched an eyebrow in question – right as Hotch's phone rang once more.

"It's Haley," Hotch deadpanned, running a hand through his dark hair and watching with all-seeing eyes as Rossi took a seat in one of the chairs directly in front of him. "She won't stop calling."

"Why?"

"I have no idea." _But, oh, I can imagine._

Rossi leaned back into the chair, crossed his legs at his ankles. "Maybe you should answer. See what she wants."

"Yeah." Hotch petulantly closed the file he had been previously working on. "Maybe."

The phone stopped ringing at last – and the two men were at a loss of what to say. It wasn't as if Hotch's mind wasn't spinning with a thousand different thoughts, however. He just didn't know how to voice them. He didn't know…if he wanted to. The fact of the matter was, David Rossi had been his friend for a very long time. They spoke to each other about their secrets, insecurities, and everything in between. But now, with a certain piece of news at the front of his conscience, Hotch was more confused than ever.

Finally, it seemed as if Hotch could no longer keep the words in. He was curious, maybe madly so. He had to know.

"Did you have…dinner with Prentiss yesterday?"

Rossi took note of the lines on Hotch's forehead, the uncertainty reflected in his darker than usual eyes. The man's voice had been cool, almost timorous when the question had been posed, so Rossi fashioned his voice the same way. "With Emily, yes," he answered, his head tilted to the side.

Hotch opened his mouth to speak, closed it. And then he frowned, not angrily, but worriedly. "Is she okay? Is something wrong, did anything happen?"

"She's fine," Rossi assured. He didn't need to tell Hotch that he should have been asking Emily these things himself; Hotch already knew. And again, he felt guilty.

"Then," Hotch swallowed, and to Rossi, he seemed like a young and nervous FBI cadet all over again, "why?" he asked simply. _Why did she come over? Why you?_

Rossi danced his fingers along an arm of the faux leather chair he was sitting in, then stood, his gaze still on Hotch. "Because. It's what friends do." He was practically out the door when he spoke once again, gentler this time. "Think about that, Aaron."

He did. Left alone, finally, Hotch thought long and hard before picking up his phone and dialing a number from memory. This time, the phone he was growing to hate wasn't connecting him to Haley…but to her polar opposite.

_"Hello?"_

Hotch let his eyes fall shut at the sound of her voice. "I miss you," he murmured, without even a greeting. He didn't need one, really. She could recognize his breathing patterns over the phone. It was something she had been able to do for a while now; enhanced senses seemed to be a result of stealth and covert operations training, which she had experienced in the extreme.

But she wasn't thinking about that now. Emily couldn't help but smile as his words met her ears. "You saw me two hours ago, Aaron," she reminded; but at the same time, she knew just what he meant. She had said it herself: in the office, they were Hotchner and Prentiss, not Aaron and Emily. Their relationship was different. Their interactions – if they even had any that particular day – were different.

"I know I did." He pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting so desperately to be where she was right now and just hold her. "But that's not the same. Do you think you could come over tonight?" he found himself asking. "We could order in, Chinese food maybe. Whatever you want."

Emily only barely suppressed her groan. The offer was so appetizing, but she wouldn't be able to, not tonight. "You know I'd love to," she sighed. "But I have plans tonight. I'm going out with the girls, remember?" He could hear the frown in her voice, but behind it, he could hear a tinge of excitement. "I'm sorry," she murmured sincerely.

"Don't be. You're right, I completely forgot about that. I bet you three are going to have a blast. And that's all I want; for you to have a good time."

"Thank you. Sometimes I could hate you for how sweet you are. Though, I could just as well be having a good time with you instead." There was a suggestive pause. "Speaking of which, I've been thinking about that special place you said you wanted to take me a lot recently," she said teasingly. "Won't you give me just one hint?"

Hotch chuckled to himself, imagining her with those beautiful pouting red lips and shining brown eyes. It was quite the vision; _she_ was quite the vision, and always had been. "A hint, huh? You're not being very fun, Emily," he chastised, in that voice of his that made her blood sing with pleasure.

"Yeah, well…neither are you."

His smile grew. "Cars," he said eventually. "It involves cars."

"…cars?" Emily paused in zipping up the back of her dress. "Now I'm even more confused," she laughed.

"Sorry, because that's the only hint you get. For now, at least." Hotch glanced at his watch, then stifled his sigh. "I guess I'll let you go now," he said, with childlike and affectionate reluctance. "Hope you enjoy your girls' night out, Em," he said, his eyes soft as he stared down at the dimly lit bullpen.

"Thank you," she repeated, running a brush through her dark locks. She was about ready to leave and join her two favorite blondes when she thought to speak once more. "And hey, Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

It was her turn to smile. "Try not to spend your entire night at the office. Go home."

His desire to pull her into his arms and never let her go increased tenfold. "How did you know I was still at work?"

"I just…know." Her smile turned wistful. _Always have, always will._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Okay, I'm leaving it at that for now, but the next chapter is a direct continuation of that night; the full girls' night out scene, plus the explanation behind Haley's phone calls. So stay tuned! You won't be let down, I promise.<strong>

**But anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to read and review. No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, I take to heart each and every one of your comments. So please review, if you have the chance! I am confident that you all have helped me grow as a writer. I am forever indebted. In addition...**

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><p><em><strong>Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>_

**Go to the link below (I finally got it to work!) for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

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**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2011, and Aug. 31st, 2012, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**

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><p><strong>My sincerest thanks in advance!<strong>


	32. Seeing Red

**Author's Note: This isn't the first time I'm saying this, and I'm sure it won't be the last - you all are so incredibly perceptive. All of your guesses at the end of each chapter are always spot on...though I'll let you decide whether or not that's a good thing. Either way, thank you ever so much for your support! Hope you all enjoy this little chapter of build up. :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Oh my God. Yeah...right there."<p>

Emily's pleased mutterings did not solely constitute the background noise in the large, perfectly lit room. Lying some distance away, both JJ and Garcia let out identical sighs and moans as their respective masseurs expertly kneaded out the kinks in their aching backs. Emily briefly managed a sated smile before a groan pushed its way past her parted lips.

She didn't have to see him to know that her particular masseur - Logan was his name - was smiling smugly. "Feel good?" he asked, the question deep and leaden.

JJ's and Garcia's conversations from other places in the room were rapidly tuned out. "Very," Emily hummed.

"Your shoulders were so tense," he murmured, moving his hands down her spine. "Why is that?"

There was something about Logan's voice that was so reminiscent of Hotch's; only Hotch's smooth baritone could send shivers racing down her spine, but Logan's was suggestive in an entirely different manner. And it wasn't as if he wasn't attractive. Green-brown eyes, dirty blonde hair, a sly smile...he sure was a fine piece of eye candy.

But blonde just weren't her type. Not anymore.

Still, that didn't mean she wasn't going to indulge in a little flirting. "I'd tell you, but explaining everything would more than likely stress me out again. We don't want to waste your hard work like that, do we?"

Logan chuckled. "That would be a crying shame." There was a pause. "Though, for you, I'd gladly give a complimentary extra half hour."

"I bet you would," Emily replied dryly; it was her turn to laugh.

"I'm being serious."

His thumbs dug masterfully into the small of her back. "I know you are." She bit back a moan. God, he was good with his hands. "And that's charming. But I don't think my friends would be very impressed," she drawled.

"I suppose not." But again, Emily could hear the smug smile in his voice.

The massage from heaven was over much too soon for Emily's liking - or for JJ's and Garcia's, for that matter. They had just slipped on their fluffy white robes, and we're mutedly wondering if rugged good looks were a requirement for masseurs - when the men in question re-entered the room. Payment was settled with much more small talk, thanks were given...and Emily almost didn't notice Logan slip his number into the pocket of her robe. Almost.

A smirk played at the corners of her lips. "And just what might this be?"

He matched her rueful smile with one of his own. "Call me up sometime," he said simply, watching as she fingered the scrap of paper then tucked it into her wallet.

"Uh huh," she said dryly. "And how many women have you done this exact same thing for?"

"You'd be the first, actually."

Emily looked at him for a little while before shaking her head amusedly. "Well, I'm flattered. And I'll uh...keep this for future reference," she said on a laugh. "You have a good day."

Logan grinned, his handsome eyes piercing. "You, too."

~.~.~

"So, are you going to call him?"

Emily looked over to meet JJ's sly gaze. Hyped up on frappuccinos, with their arms laden with shopping bags and their nails freshly painted - pale pink for JJ, vibrant purple for Garcia, and elegant French tips for Emily -, it was easy to forget anything and everything that had taken place mere hours before. For the two blondes, however, Emily should have known things would be different.

"I don't think so, no," Emily answered eventually, preparing herself for the onslaught of incredulity and questions she was sure was about to come."You're not?" Garcia sounded appalled. "How come? I mean, don't get me wrong, I adored my man Eric, but your masseur was damn sexy and evidently very good with his hands."

But JJ had it figured out. "Unless..." She smiled. "Unless Emily here isn't available for a rendezvous here and there. Is there something you're hiding from us, Em? Maybe a...boyfriend?"

Emily said nothing, just turned a pretty shade of red.

"She's blushing, she's blushing!" Garcia exclaimed, her eyes wide. "I can't believe you, Emily, having a boy toy all this time and keeping him from us," she clucked disapprovingly. "What does he look like? What's his name?"

"I beg he's tall, dark, and handsome," JJ said. "That seems like your type. Am I right?"

"You certainly are," Emily managed, once her laughter had subsided. Hoping Garcia wouldn't notice, she left the question about her mystery man's name unanswered.

"I knew it," JJ proclaimed with glee, clapping her hands together soon afterwards. "But this is great news! How long have you two been together?"

"A...a little more than a month. As long as I've been in the DC area, basically." Emily withheld the fact that they'd been together for months beforehand as well; that would have been just too revealing.

"We had no idea," Garcia said, "that's crazy."

_Yeah, well...I guess I've always had secrets to keep, _Emily felt like saying; but once again, she chose to keep quiet.

"You know what this means, though, don't you?" JJ asked after a contemplative beat of silence. She and Garcia shared a knowing glance, and Emily actually felt scared as she wondered what they had planned for her.

"I'm honestly a little afraid to ask," Emily confessed, laughing nervously.

"Oh, nonsense," JJ said, as Garcia craned her neck to look over the shoppers that were surrounding them. "We just have to stop at one more store for the night, and then we can head to...my place maybe? To pop in a movie?"

Emily's good-natured fear slowly faded away. "Sounds good to me," she sighed. "But...what other store? Quite frankly, I thought we'd been to every one."

"She's funny, Emily is," Garcia said to JJ, who smirked. Tottering on impossibly high heels, the technical analyst pointed to a store in the distance. "It's right over there, we were walking the right way."

Emily saw it the moment JJ did; and the silly fear was back. "Yeah, no," she deadpanned immediately. "We are _not _going into Victoria's Secret. Or at least, _I'm_ not."

JJ rolled her eyes. "One thing you ought to learn, Emily? Resistance is futile when you're with me and PG." She took hold of the seemingly petrified brunette's arm and smirked. "Now _come on_, Prentiss."

~.~.~

"How about this one?"

Emily gave JJ an indulgent smile as the blonde held up a black chemise made of soft, airy chiffon. She supposed there was something great about lingerie shopping; it solidified friendships, brought people together. If Emily was put off or even amused at the fact that both JJ and Garcia were very obviously imagining her clad in nothing but see-through lace, she said nothing.

She did protest each time one of the girls waved a new a scrap of skimpy fabric beneath her nose, though. "Jayje, really. I hate being a spoil sport, but...I don't really get to see him as often as I'd - we'd - like. I mean, we see each other...but we can't do anything. Because of time issues, and things like that."

"But it is an actual relationship," JJ said carefully. "Right? You two are dating? It's not just..." Her voice trailed away, then she smiled.

"Right," Emily said. "It's not just sex," she said bluntly, knowing that was what JJ had been hinting at. But even as she said the words, Emily realized she wasn't entirely sure anymore. She certainly didn't want another friends-with-benefits type thing, but what if it never amounted to anything more? The thought scared her.

"I understand," JJ assured. "But it sounds like your schedules are unpredictable. So whenever the moment comes up...you'll be prepared," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Just then, Garcia returned with a strawberry pink slip in hand. "Well? What do you think?"

"Pink is not really my color," Emily said immediately, watching with a little smile as JJ picked out a new lotion for herself.

"Okay, that's what I thought," Garcia grinned. "How about white? Kind of angelic, don't you think?"

Emily gazed at it for a while, her mind cooking up endless blissful scenarios...but in each one, it wasn't white she was wearing. A wistfully sultry smile curved her lips. "You know...he's always liked me in red."

"I can_ so_ see that," Garcia gasped, as JJ rushed off in search of the perfect item of lingerie. It made Emily laugh to see them so excited and enthusiastic; and it made her so happy to have such lovely friends.

But in the end, it wasn't her lovely friends who found the perfect negligée; it was Emily herself. JJ and Garcia came back to find her delicately fingering deep red lace. It felt cool on her skin; she wondered how it would feel when she was wearing it and nothing else.

She wondered if Hotch would like it.

"Wow, that's stunning," JJ said, shaking her head. And it was, with its thin straps, sweetheart neckline, and shimmering fabric. "Go on," JJ slipped it off its hanger, "try it on."

For once, Emily didn't object. Instead, she made her way to the dressing room in the back with a newfound spring in her step. After all, she didn't have to try the negligée on; she already knew.

This would be the outfit she wore to win Aaron Hotchner back.

~.~.~

Hotch was lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, when his phone rang once more - for the fourth time. He didn't have to check the caller ID to know it was Haley.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he blew out a begrudging sigh before finally reaching for the shrill, offending object. Of course his reverie would be interrupted. It had been so nice, imagining Emily doing nothing but lying in his arms after a long day. He could practically feel her silky locks beneath his fingers...God, he wanted to kiss her, to fall asleep beside her each night.

More than anything at the moment, Hotch wanted to call her to see how her night had been. He wanted to hear her voice lulling him to sleep and putting him at ease. He wanted to invite her over.

But Haley had called. Finally hitting the call button and holding the phone to his ear, Hotch muttered a less than energetic "hello" to his surely angry ex-wife. He wondered if she'd leave him alone after this...he hoped so.

Alas, that was not the case.

"Aaron?" Haley sounded panicked, tearful - and that instantly set Hotch on edge. "Where are you? You need to get here right now. It's Jack."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Look, another cliffhanger! Somehow, I feel like that isn't surprising to you guys anymore. I know you probably all hate me right now, but please...I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter! It has always been you all that motivate and inspire me, and I couldn't be more grateful. No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, I take each and every one of your comments into consideration! So thank you in advance! Also...<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>_

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction.**

**net/topic/74868/69379386/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2011, and Aug. 31st, 2012, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**

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><p><strong>My sincerest thanks in advance!<strong>


	33. Wrong Place, Right Time

**Author's Note: Another short one, I know. I can actually say with confidence that, from here on out, the chapters will be longer...but whether or not that's a good thing, I'll let you decide. Hopefully this chapter answers some of your questions...and hopefully you enjoy! As always, thank you so incredibly much for reading.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>The moment they laid eyes on one another, Haley rushed forward and instinctively into Hotch's arms. It felt old and strange, but reminiscent as well, and he found that he couldn't bring himself to object; not when Haley was practically shaking with grief. Again, it was instinct…and instinct was not bounded by time of any sort.<p>

Finally pulling away, Hotch studied her pallid face with bright and worried eyes. "What happened?" he gasped out, the worst of possibilities running through his mind. She hadn't been able to tell him over the phone, and he had been forced to make the high-speed drive to the hospital in the dark – both literally and figuratively. His heart was pounding. All he wanted to do was see his boy.

Haley shook her head absentmindedly, the tears finally subsiding as she took in a deep, cleansing breath. "He…he was at daycare. And I couldn't pick him up until seven, because of work, but around six or six-thirty, they called and told me that I had to come over because…because Jack and a couple other kids had been on the monkey bars, and apparently no one was watching at that exact moment…" Haley hiccupped. "He fell off the monkey bars, Aaron," she moaned. She bowed her head as she watched Hotch's eyes grow wide with concern. "His arm is broken and th-they think he has a concussion. Oh, God, Aaron…"

"How was _no one_ watching the kids?" Hotch sputtered, anger and disbelief flashing through him briefly before he began searching all around them for Jack's room. "A concussion…Haley, he's not even four yet. God, what if…"

_"I know. _It's all I've been able to think about."

His eyes fell shut. It was Jack's first big injury. Sure, there had been little cuts and scrapes here and there, but all of them had been easily remedied with a Band-Aid and a kiss. But this? "Where is he?"

Immediately, Haley pointed down the hall to the only room with the door open. "He's been calling for you nonstop," she said, and Hotch was crippled with guilt. Their gazes met. "Wh-why didn't you answer my calls?" she asked lamely.

Hotch looked at her for a moment longer before simply turning away and rushing down the hall, his heart clenching at the sight of a sniffling, exhausted Jack. Without a second's hesitation, Hotch climbed under the covers with the boy and dropped a kiss into his downy soft hair as he curled up against his chest. "Hey, buddy," he whispered, his voice thick and his throat constricted. "How're you feeling?" It was a redundant question, but Hotch couldn't _not_ask it. He was at a loss for words…he was unbelievably shaken.

Jack simply whimpered and buried himself further into his father's warm embrace. "Hurts, Daddy," he managed, pouting down at his left arm, which was now in a bright blue cast.

"I know, Jack, I know," Hotch muttered with a soft sigh. His son was the reason he went into the field day in and day out, to make the world a better place – as clichéd as that might have sounded. He worked his hardest to protect his little boy…yet here he was, tears crusting on his eyelashes. He stroked Jack's cheek for a long, lovely moment before moving off the bed in search of water. He appreciated the fact that Haley was giving them a moment to themselves; he wasn't ready to talk to her, not at all.

Jack had another idea entirely, however. "Don't go, Daddy," he sniffled, instantly reaching out for him with his good arm. "Daddy…"

Again, a pang of guilt shot through him. "I'm just getting you some water, buddy. Don't worry; I'm never going anywhere," he vowed, his voice shaky.

"Never ever?"

"Never ever." It was suddenly difficult for Hotch to breathe as he reached forward to twine Jack's pinky with his. After a long drink of water and a kiss to his flushed forehead, Jack found his eyes drooping shut with sleep. "That's right," Hotch encouraged soothingly. "You're a big boy, Jack. You'll tackle this in the morning."

"That's what Emmy said," Jack mumbled blearily, "that I'm a big boy."

"And Emmy was right." Hotch, too, closed his eyes, though he was nowhere near sleep. "Get some rest now, buddy," he crooned. "I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

_I promise._

~.~.~

Jack had been blissfully asleep for hours when Haley's voice finally broke through the thick, stifling silence. As had been the case weeks earlier, nothing could prepare Hotch for his ex-wife's next words.

"It's times like these that I wish we weren't…separated."

Hotch sighed. "Haley…"

"It's wrong for you to always be so far away," she said insistently, and the earnestness etched into every corner of her features surprised him – for only a moment. She had always been a good actress, after all; both on-screen and off. "It's obvious that he misses you."

Hotch hadn't mean to be so stern, but he found himself shooting her a glace that he normally reserved for the most heinous offenders. "I cannot believe you are bringing this up right now," he said icily, though his voice was whisper soft. Beside them, Jack shifted but mercifully did not wake.

But Haley would not yield. It took one to know one, and it took one to love one…and just as Hotch had always been stubborn, she had always been the same way as well. "It's all he would say: _where's Daddy, I want Daddy, why is he always so far away…_"

Hotch's gaze was livid. _"Stop."_

Haley's demeanor softened as she watched him pinch his brow. "I've just…come to realize that it's not fair," she said almost shyly; a significant behavioral diminution.

"You think I don't know that? Every time I go into the field knowing I may not make it back, I think about him. I think about the last thing I told him. I ask myself, was he happy? If Fate has marked that particular day as _the _day, I wonder, what will he remember of me in five years? It _kills _me, Haley." His turned away from her, his gaze on Jack this time. "So yeah. It's not fair. Not for him."

Silence reigned for a long, uncomfortable minute. "Or you," Haley finally said.

Hotch didn't know what she was getting at, and he was abundantly sure that he didn't want to. Without another word, he closed his eyes to block her out, willing sleep to take him away and make everything better.

In his mind's eye, it wasn't Haley sitting nearby but Emily…sweet Emily. He could almost feel her folded up against him, could almost taste the kisses they had shared mere hours before. It calmed him down, and he felt himself drifting away as he wondered how her night had been, as he wondered what she was doing at that very moment, and whether she was happy or sad. He hoped she was the former; nothing was more beautiful than her smile.

It was she and her smile that lingered last on his mind as sleep claimed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thoughts? Suggestions? Questions? Please leave me a review, if you have the chance! I really am anxious to know what you think. Your feedback is and always has been so indescribably valuable to me. Thank you so much for your continued support!<strong>**

****Special shout-out to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: ****_yacriminalminds, HPforever-after, NicknHotchfan, MeGkAtHeRiNe, smilin steph, ankCM, Guest, emmasong95, Cinnamonfa, greengirl82, charleantheresas, Speetsy, stewhearts, Catulicious, rmpcmfan, lizzabeth, sarahb2007, KalibraH24, ladybugsmomma, AllieDJ, _**and **_ncis4ever21._

****I seriously am sorry that I couldn't thank each and every one of you individually; I hardly had enough time to write this weekend! But I want _all of you_ to know that you are appreciated and that you mean the world to me.****

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><p><em><strong>Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>_

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction.**

**net/topic/74868/69379386/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2011, and Aug. 31st, 2012, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**

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><p><strong>My sincerest thanks in advance!<strong>


	34. Stockholm

**Author's Note: I'm speechless. Your feedback, suggestions, and praise have overwhelmed me and I really cannot say anything else but thank you. To know that so many of you have stuck with me from the very beginning...well, that means a heck of a lot. I hope I can live up to such high standards! With every chapter, I try my best. So with that being said, enjoy! And thank you again.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Hotch couldn't have possibly felt more emotionally conflicted when his phone rang and he saw that it was Emily. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her; there was just so much he had to explain, and even more that he didn't know how to.<p>

But he brought the phone to his ear regardless.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping out of Jack's hospital room and into the hallway so as not to wake the sleeping boy. It was early Sunday morning and after a resetting the bone and a multitude of tests, Jack was finally going to be released. "I was actually just about to call you."

That caught Emily's attention. A small smile touched her lips. "You were, were you?" She pushed herself out of bed and padded barefoot into her bathroom, the pristine tiles cold against her bare skin. "What about?"

Hotch stared off into the distance, then sighed. "I'm going to take some time off from work. At least a week, maybe two."

Just as he expected she would, Emily immediately asked, "How come?" and he could hear the frown in her voice.

"Jack's in the hospital." Just saying the words hurt like hell. On the other line, Emily took in a sharp breath as her heart nervously plummeted to her stomach. Before she could ask, Hotch said, "He fell off the monkey bars when no one was looking and broke his arm and got a minor concussion. All I can think about is getting him better and finding him a different daycare."

Emily was floored. "Oh my God," she breathed. "Is he okay? I mean, obviously he's not okay, but…is he in pain? Oh my God," she barely managed, and she wasn't sure she actually wanted to know the answer. He was just too young!

Hotch ran a hand through his hair. "He's already saying it doesn't hurt, but I'm especially worried about his concussion. It's a really minor one, the doctors assured me, but…even as an adult, that's no fun. Jack's a…tough boy."

"He's strong, like his father," Emily said, the words slipping past her lips of their own volition. If she listened closely, she could hear the chatter of hospital personnel and nurses on the other line, and Hotch's exhausted sighs. It made her itch to wrap her arms around his waist and hold him…to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and assure him that everything would be okay.

With Emily's words echoing in his ears, Hotch felt a little bit of life slip back into his tired bones, but only for a moment. A pang of guilt shot through him; here Emily was, selflessly comforting him while he was doing nothing of the sort for her. Quickly, he glanced back to see if Jack was awake before speaking into the phone again. "Anyway, I was about to call Dave as well and tell him about my situation. I'm going to need to relay everything to Strauss as well, but honestly, I don't know how I'm awake right now, so that's going to have to wait."

"Do you want me to?" Emily leaned against the bathroom counter, facing away from the large mirror. She didn't need to see her reflection to know that she had an utterly confused expression on her face. "I would be more than happy to."

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I need to talk to Dave about…other things as well. And Strauss is Strauss. She dislikes me enough as is, but this is the kind of thing that has to come from me." Hotch softened his voice. "But really, Emily…thank you."

"Of course. Is there anything I can do for Jack?" She paused. "For you?"

"No," Hotch said eventually, though he desperately wanted to ask her to find a way to wind back time so they could start everything over again.

"Okay. Well…" Emily bit her lip, "if you need anything – absolutely anything –, you know where to find me."

"I do." In his mind's eye, he saw himself giving her a kiss in thanks. Now more than ever, he missed her. "Goodbye, Emily."

"Bye, Aaron."

And the line went dead.

Once again, Hotch found himself gazing off into the distance. His mind was in some far away place as well; most notably, he found himself recounting the conversation he and Haley'd had the night before. It had only made him more confused…or at least, that was what he was telling himself. He knew the intention behind Haley's words, and it made him uncomfortable, but he wanted so desperately to see Jack more often than the weekends. He wasn't about to admit that his ex-wife was making even an ounce of sense, but he wasn't going to say she was terribly far off the mark, either.

And then there was Emily. Emily, whom he so desperately wanted to fit into his chaotic life and job. She had such a great hold over his heart…it exhilarated him and scared him all at the same time.

Hotch was so lost in thought that he actually started when Haley's rounded the corner and spoke. "Jack's awake," she informed, and for the life of him, Hotch couldn't make sense of the tone of her voice. "I'm going to go see if they can get him some breakfast now."

Hotch didn't have time to respond before she had disappeared once more; but he didn't really mind. The only thing that mattered at the moment was attending to his son. "Hey, buddy," he greeted, offering the sweet boy a small, comforting smile as he sat down beside him. "Feeling a little bit better?"

Jack thought it over, then nodded. "A little," he conceded, though the sheer sight of the cast on his arm still made both father and son wince. "I'm hungry, Daddy."

Hotch ruffled Jack's soft blonde hair. "Mommy's getting you some breakfast, okay? You'll be stuffed in no time." With gentle eyes, he watched as Jack burrowed into his side and huffed out a tiny sigh. A long stretch of time inched past before Hotch finally spoke the words that had been plaguing him for more than a while. "Jack…I'm really sorry I couldn't come see you sooner."

"S'okay," he murmured, as innocent as ever.

But Hotch shook his head. "No, it's not. You're the most important person in my life, Jack," he said, resting his forehead against his son's. "I hope you know that."

"I miss you."

Hotch enveloped the boy in a careful hug. "I missed you, too, buddy."

Surprisingly astute, Jack looked up at his father with wide eyes. "No, I _miss_ you. Andy and…and…and Eric see their daddies and mommies every day."

This time, the guilt was overwhelming. Hotch felt like he was drowning; he felt like a failure. He knew the unspoken question resting on Jack's tongue; _Why aren't you and Mommy together? _"I miss you every second of every day we're apart," he said, after a silence that was much too long and inherently bruising. "Your mommy and I, we've had…a lot of disagreements. It's an adult thing, really. It's not easy to understand, even for me."

It was then that Haley chose to enter the room once more, with a tray of food in her hands this time. Her hushed voice washed over Jack in waves as she portioned off some of his breakfast and began to feed him; but Hotch had not the slightest clue as to what she was saying because of the ringing in his ears. He felt truly deafened and longed for a reprieve; though not the one Haley was prepared to give him.

"Jack, baby, Daddy and I need to step outside and talk about grown-up things for a second." Haley purposely avoided Hotch's gaze; Hotch, who was growing increasingly suspicious. "We'll be really close – just outside your door – and we won't take long, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy." Jack didn't seem to mind; he was too busy snacking on his grapes to notice the weary look on his father's face. Surprisingly, Hotch was the first one to leave the room, not Haley. He wanted to get this discussion over with. He wanted things to be normal…but what he wanted, he would sadly never have.

They were barely into the hallway when Haley broke the uncomfortable silence. "You remember our conversation last night." This time, she did look him in the eye…and their gazes were shockingly similar, wary and tired, hard yet wistful.

"Of course," Hotch responded lowly. _How could I forget? _he wanted to ask in return. It had been plaguing him all night and into the morning. It had plagued him so deeply that he knew Haley's next words before they even fell from her pale pink lips.

"I've been giving it a lot of thought lately."

"How lately? Since you heard about Emily from Jack?" He hadn't meant to be harsh; it was only the truth, and they both knew it. He had just hit the nail on the head.

Haley, of course, chose to ignore him. It was with a bolstering exhale and a pause that wasn't purely for effect that she was able to speak what had been on her mind for seemingly forever. "I really think we need to work something – a better system – out," she finally said, gauging his reaction with careful but bright eyes.

It took every ounce of effort for Hotch to not go rigid. "We already share custody," he said simply, but his voice was quieter than usual…the calm before the storm, perhaps.

"You're not stupid, Aaron." Haley sighed as she watched him fold his arms across his chest. "You know what I mean."

He did. And it both scared him and made him curious at the same time. "You don't think that's rushing things?" he asked after a beat, incredulous. They were leaving a hell of a lot unsaid, but then again, Haley had been right. He didn't need her to spell things out for him. He already knew.

She wanted them to get back together.

"I could ask you the same thing," Haley said pointedly, before biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Hotch was the epitome of unimpressed when her little dig met his ears; yes, she had made it abundantly clear that he and Emily had rushed back into things. But to bring that up right now? That was just low.

"I'm sorry," Haley immediately said, frowning at his glare. "I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said that."

"I just don't think this is wise," Hotch said blankly.

"I'm not begging you," she clarified. "I would hate to be painted as the stereotypical clingy ex-wife. But it's normal to have doubts. I think you need to know that." Yet another beat passed. "I'm not doing this for myself." It wasn't really a lie; or at least, that's what she telling herself. "I'm doing it for Jack. _Our son_. He's too young to understand. It's too early for him to be raised like this, Aaron."

Hotch was beyond frustrated, but he knew he was losing the fight…not that it had been much of a fight in the first place. It made him hate himself a little more, knowing the thoughts and actions that were forming in the back of his mind. But Jack…sweet young Jack. Already, he had been failed by his father. How was Hotch supposed to live with that?

"Are you done making me feel guilty?" he deadpanned, looking Haley straight in the eyes. It was strange, knowing that he had once really and truly loved her.

_I don't have to try very hard, do I?_ Haley shook her head, taking a slight step forward. "You know that's not my intention." She let the words sink in for a while longer before finally turning back in Jack's direction. "Just…give it some thought. Okay?"

Floored, Hotch watched her leave. What was even stranger than his previous love for her was how easily he had let her take the lead. It wasn't often that he didn't put up a fight. But when the greatest person to fight for was his own son…there was only one direction he could sway.

"Yeah," he finally breathed. "Okay." Before he knew what he was doing, Hotch was pulling out his wallet and staring at the lone picture in his palm. It was the very same picture he had shown Emily that first night, after recounting the past eight years. But it was folded.

He had long ago folded it so that only Jack was in the picture, but now…now he unfolded it just a titch so that Haley's smiling visage was visible as well. He left it that way for a while, his mind running circles, before he came to the conclusion that it was too much too soon. He wasn't ready to 'get back together'; at least, not in the way that he knew Haley was. He would deal with her sooner or later, preferably later. There were other, more important things that needed to be done first, however. Baby steps would be taken.

Tears would be shed.

It was with Emily on his mind that Hotch refolded the photograph and stuffed it back into his wallet. There were things that needed to be done. He wouldn't be happy…but if it meant Jack would be, then it was a sacrifice he would have to make.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Pardon my French, but shit is about to hit the fan. Please...don't hate me! It's all part of my master plan. But anyway, thank you all so much for reading. I literally cannot put into words just how much you all mean to me. You make my days that much brighter. If you have the time, please leave a review. Your feedback and suggestions are the best possible inspiration and motivation for me. They're priceless! Thank you so very much in advance. Also...<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>_

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

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><p><strong>My sincerest thanks in advance!<strong>


	35. Sorry Doesn't Bring People Back

**Author's Note: There is not much else I can say except thank you so very much for your perfectly inspiring and thought-provoking feedback, and that I hope you all don't hate me too much after you're done reading this chapter.**

**It had to be done. You'll learn why sooner or later.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"Emily told me I'd be expecting a call from you."<p>

Hotch could feel the tension coursing through his veins, could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He was so beyond uncomfortable; he was weary and wanted to hold a certain brunette in his arms as they fell asleep together.

But all he could think of was Jack.

And Haley.

"She didn't tell you what it was about?" Hotch masked a voice break with a strategic clearing of his throat, but he couldn't help but thinking that Emily's silence and respect for his private life was something to be appreciated, respected. Yet here he was, questioning every life decision he had ever made. It was confusing, mind-numbing, disturbing. He needed an escape so desperately…he needed solace and peace.

"No, she didn't. Are you surprised?" Rossi asked the question already knowing the answer. The younger man had been his friend for too long to count; with years of companionship came thousands of behavioral nuances that became second nature to recognize.

"No." Hotch swallowed thickly. "I guess I'll tell you exactly what I told her. Long story short, Jack has been in the hospital for the past two days recovering from a broken arm and a mild concussion." Just recounting the words made him terrified. "He went on the monkey bars at daycare when no one was watching and fell off soon afterward. He says he's okay…but Dave, when Haley called to tell me, I was certain I had a heart attack right then and there. If anything ever happened to him, there's no doubt I would go insane," he said after a pause, more to himself than to anyone else. "I would do anything for him."

The words were whispered. Briefly, Hotch wondered whom he was trying to convince. It was a question that had no answer…at least, not one that he wanted to think about at the moment.

Dave, of course, was incredulous. "There was _no adult_ watching the kids? That's not only irresponsible, that's just…" Words failed him. "Is Jack going to be released soon? Poor kid."

"We're leaving right now, actually. And that's the other thing I need to talk to you about." Hotch watched as Haley signed the discharge necessary papers for Jack, who was sitting patiently nearby, playing idly with his favorite stuffed dinosaur. "I'm taking the upcoming week off from work," he said finally. "I haven't talked to Strauss about it yet, and I might even take leave for more than a week…but I need to spend time with my son, to make sure I'm making more of an active effort to be around him more often, especially now that he's healing. I wasn't able to make it to the hospital the moment he was admitted, and according to Haley…" his voice faltered once more, "he was calling for me non-stop. He said he misses me. And I miss him, too, you know?"

"You're making it sound as if you're a deadbeat father," Rossi said after a beat of silence. "Aaron, for Christ's sake, take it from a guy with three divorces under his belt. I've never seen anyone as dedicated to provide his son with the world as you." Still, Hotch was quiet…and the quiet that fell upon the phone line provided Rossi with more than enough answers than he could have ever asked for. "But that's not all you wanted to talk about, is it?"

Hotch stiffened, breathed out a sigh.

"Is there anything else, Aaron?"

It was no surprise to Hotch that the older man had been able to sense something more, something hidden behind his words. When Hotch sighed once more, it was sad this time, and almost…reluctant. Reluctant to admit what was on his mind, maybe.

Reluctant to admit what he was soon to do.

"There's nothing else, Dave."

"Aaron…don't underestimate me, now." He could practically _hear_ his protégé pacing on the other side of the line. Hotch's earlier words echoed in his ears. "_Jack was calling for me non-stop. He said he misses me."_

_Where's Daddy, I want Daddy, why is he always so far away…_

It wasn't a terrible long shot, and this time, Rossi decided to take the plunge, to risk making assumptions that should never have had to be made or even thought up in the first place. "It's not just about Jack, is it?" he asked tentatively, his voice quieter than before.

He had expected Hotch to put up a greater fight, or at least a second of more reluctance, but much to his surprise, the Unit Chief caved in after only a heartbeat. "No," he murmured. "No, it isn't. Not anymore."

Rossi nodded to himself, though a frown began to settle on his hard mouth. "What happened, Aaron?"

"It's Haley." The fact of the matter was, nothing good ever amounted after those two words. "Dave, I think she wants to get back together. She says it's for Jack, so he will be able to have as normal a childhood for at least a little while…but I don't believe her. I hate that I don't, but I can't bring myself to."

"You think she's jealous." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"So –"

"But, Dave, she has one good point," he groaned, and the admission seemed almost regretful. _"Jack needs his father._ I need my son to grow up with me in his life. I think of it every time we go out in the field. What happens if I don't come back one day? What would he remember of me in five years? In ten?" He scoffed, albeit good-naturedly. "I know what you're thinking. I'm overreacting and thinking too far in the future. But he needs me now, as much as possible, and so do I. He keeps me sane."

Rossi wisely chose not to argue – for now. "And what about Emily?" It was this conversation that Hotch been regretting. Damn his best friend for being so perceptive! "What would you tell her? _How _would you tell her about this?"

The prospect itself made Hotch want to break down and cry. It was something he had been thinking about for hours on end now, and with every second that passed, he grew more and more on edge. He hated that he had to choose…he hated that, one way or another, he would end up hurting Emily…unassuming Emily.

But Jack was flesh and blood.

And Haley…

He didn't know about Haley.

"I love my son, Rossi," he said through clenched teeth, a headache beginning to form.

"That's not an answer."

A long beat passed. And then: "I don't know," Hotch admitted painfully, his eyes clenching shut. "I really…do not know."

"But you know her, Aaron. You know she's going to ask questions. She's going to wonder why you aren't putting up a greater fight, and while she will understand what you're doing for your son, she's not going to understand why having Haley in the picture is necessary. She's a woman, and women are like that. But especially a woman who knows you both inside and out…she's going to want answers." Rossi gave a sad little shrug. "Don't ask me how I know all this. Let's just say three failed marriages gave me more than enough experience. I made a terrible mistake with Carolyn. Don't let that happen to you as well."

"I'm not _remarrying _her, Dave. For Christ's sake, why would you jump to that conclusion?"

"I wasn't." Again, silence slipped over the line. "Where are you right now?"

There was something omnipotent about Rossi's tone of questioning. For a minute, Hotch was unnerved. "I'm at Haley and I's old house." The answer only confirmed the older man's suppositions, and sadly, Hotch knew it. "Jack wanted to wake up to me in the morning."

"Understandably." Rossi sighed imperceptibly, then shifted his phone from one phone to another. He was tired; the conversation was thankfully drawing to a close. Whether or not his friend would choose the right path to travel down was a story for another time entirely. "Just…don't let yourself be blinded, Aaron. That's all I'm going to say for tonight."

Hotch was at a loss for words. "But – Dave, don't you understand –"

"I do. Believe me, Aaron…I do." But on the other side of the line, Rossi was simply shaking his head. "Good night. Tell Haley I said hello and Jack that I hope he gets well soon."

"I will. Thanks." The statement was feeble, but it didn't matter, because the line instantly went dead, leaving Hotch alone with his confusing and conflicted thoughts once more. The night was still young, but the upcoming day? Hotch couldn't wait for it to be over; and it hadn't even begun yet.

~.~.~

Hotch was certain he had never heard a sound more joyous in his life than that of a three, almost four, year old giggling raucously. Even with his arm in a fresh cast, Jack was as playful as ever, running in circles around his mother and father as they tried, with no success, to catch him and carry him home. The morning sun warmed their skin, though not too much; October was beginning and the wind was nicer than Hotch could ever remember it being.

It was such a sharp contrast to his currently troubled state of mind. His heart beat an ominous tattoo against his chest, like a relentless reminder of what he would soon have to do. It tore him to pieces inside…but then there was Jack, throwing his small stubby arms around his waist and hugging him tighter than he ever thought possible.

Just like that, everything seemed right again.

"Are you coming home, Daddy?" Jack asked, tugging on his father's shirt with adorable persistence. _"Please?"_

Finally, Hotch swept the little boy up into his arms and covered his face with kisses. "Of course I will, buddy." His answer was a beat too late, but the sweet boy didn't notice; he was too excited with the prospect of having both of his parents home at once. They were in for a fun afternoon...or at least, Haley and Jack were. Smiling tinily, Hotch gave Haley a quick nod in passing before speaking to his son once more. "I'll be home with you and your mom real soon, okay? There's just...something I need to do first, though."

"Okay." Wiggling about in his father's embrace so that he could be placed back on the ground, Jack instantly skipped off toward his mother, grinning all the while. It made Hotch's heart soar to see his boy so happy. It was all he had ever wanted; to protect his family from the demons he saw day in and day out. To make the world at least a slightly bet better so that Jack and the girls and boys of his generation would be able to thrive in a society that was at least marginally safer than that of their parents. He liked to think he had so far been a success.

But he couldn't think about that now, not when he was pulling his phone out of his pocket without a second more of thought and dialing a number he was certain he would never ever forget.

The phone rang and rang and rang, so many times that Hotch was convinced she wasn't going to pick up. Just as he was preparing to hang up, however, he heard her voice on the other line...or rather, he heard her smile.

"Hey," Emily breathed out, and Hotch felt his own breath catch in the back of his throat. "What's up? Is everything okay?"

_No._ "Everything's...fine. I was just wondering if I could meet you for lunch in about an hour; or sooner, if you can make it. There are some...things I kind of want to - _need_ to - talk about." He ran a hand through his hair. "I know you're at work, but I figured you would need a break sooner or later."

"Lunch sounds great." Already, Hotch could hear her ruffling through files, stacking them and setting some aside for the hours to come. "Where do you want to meet up?" There was a pause. "And are you sure you're okay? You sound...different."

"I'll be okay when I see you," he said, and it wasn't completely a lie. He would feel much better once he was able to relieve his shoulders of the perilous weight they were currently holding. He would feel free for but a second...

...and then, the guilt would sink back in. He just knew it. But it was something that unfortunately could not be avoided. "How about that French place by the Bureau? I can drive over in a few minutes. I think you mentioned once that their salad is your favorite?"

"It is. I'm surprised you remembered," Emily said, and her cheeks colored a slight pink. Of course he had remembered. He had always been that kind of man...that kind of gentleman. "I'll see you there at around one?"

"Sure." So absorbed in watching Jack's interactions with Haley was he, that he almost forgot he was in the middle of a call. "Hey, and Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for doing this," he said, and his voice was more subdued than usual.

"Of course," Emily answered simply; though, if she were being honest with herself, something about him _had _changed...and she had not the slightest idea as to _what_ she was doing.

~.~.~

She found him sitting at a booth in the corner of the small, cozy restaurant, his arms folded on the table as he stretched back against the seat, his head resting against the broad, cushioned back. He was dressed down and looked handsomer than ever in his faded grey jeans and a maroon colored shirt. A suit jacket rested on the seat in front of him, untouched, reserving the place for a woman he had thought would never come.

But there she was.

Emily was there, dressed in black as if mourning a significant loss she could foresee in the immediate future. She strode toward him fluidly, completely unaware of the words that would soon fall from the lips she had kissed too many times to count. Her smile was blinding, his heart broken in two.

"You look good," she hummed, smiling as he left a kiss to her downy soft cheek. Settling into the booth, Emily breathed out a content sigh. "You look...relaxed."

Hotch was anything but, however. "I do?" he mused aloud, holding her gaze for almost a minute before looking down at his hands. "That's odd. I…don't feel that way."

Emily furrowed her brow. "You don't? How come?" She paused for a beat before realization dawned on her. "Oh, right…_Jack_. How is he, Aaron? God, just thinking about it makes my head hurt."

_You and me both_, Hotch almost said. "He's healing," he answered simply, with a tight smile that only increased Emily's curious concern. "He gets a little bit dizzy if he runs around too much, but honestly, at his age, getting him to stay still is nearly impossible. He's eating more than just soup now and…well, he's been happy to have me home every day lately."

"I can only imagine."

"…but Jack's not the only reason, Emily." His words seemed sluggish to his own ears; Hotch had never before been as anxious as he was now. Here Emily was, simply assuming that this was like every other lunch date they had ever had, when in reality, it was so different…so much more. There had already been a sliver of distance between them, and it augmented steadily still. This was the culmination.

This was the choice Hotch never thought he would make but knew he had to.

Emily's dark eyes were attentive, sharp. "What do you mean?"

Their hands, which had been resting near each other atop the table, slowly inched apart. "There's something you and I need to talk about, Em." He prayed to the gods in hope that she would hear the apology in his voice, yet somehow understand him as well. A sad sigh broke the silence, and Hotch wasn't sure if it was his or hers. Finally, he caved in. "We need to talk about us. And…and Haley."

As much as she wanted to prevent it, Emily stiffened; she couldn't even bring herself to be surprised, however. She felt like a different person when she spoke once more. "Wh-what about Haley?" Emily cursed the tremble in her voice. Of all times to seem weak before his eyes!

Of all things to be forced to discuss.

Beneath the table, Hotch's hands began to shake just slightly. "I don't know how to tell you this, Emily. But Haley…" he breathed, "she wants to get back together."

"She…what?" Emily felt mute, dumb, stunned. She didn't know what she had been expecting at the beginning of their conversation, and while had known it wouldn't be good…she had never thought it would come to this.

Or perhaps she had. Perhaps she had and had just never let herself believe that it was possible.

"We had our fair share of arguments," Hotch said, and it was impossible to look at the brunette now, "but in the end, we decided upon one thing; it's wrong that I'm always so far away from home…from Jack. And while I can't necessarily prevent that for forever because of our job, I need to be able to do everything I can for my son. We have to – no, _I _have to give Jack as much normalcy as possible. Haley wants us to get back together," he repeated.

It was like the thesis sentence at the end of the badly written paragraph of their lives.

"And you?" Emily swallowed thickly, wondering if she would wake up if she were pinched hard enough. "What do _you_ want?" She was answered with nothing but silence, yet the silence was a loud enough response in and of itself. "You want this, too," she realized. Her voice was not shocked, nor was it hurt. It was just…flat.

"Yes. No," Hotch's chest tightened, "…yes. Emily, I love my son." _And what I want I won't ever get._

Emily nodded numbly. Their current experience seemed almost surreal. She had always thought he was stronger than this; she had always naively wished he would fight for her if she ever needed him to. An unfeeling chuckle almost slipped past her lips. She understood it now; this was her karma, her twisted payback for leaving him all those years ago. Karma was a bitch, and everyone knew it.

Emily had just hoped she would be exempt from suffering…just this once.

"I know you do," Emily said softly. Somehow, she managed a small smile. Whether it was genuine or not, Hotch wasn't sure he would ever know. "You know, I can't really say I didn't see this coming. Wh-what did she tell you? When she found out from Jack that you were seeing someone knew, what did she tell you?"

"Emily…"

_"Hotch."_

He winced. "Rushing things," he murmured, barely audible now. "She said she thought we were rushing things."

"Is that what _you_ believe?" Emily didn't want to argue, but she couldn't prevent her cheeks from getting flushed with heat and her mind from spinning due to frustration.

"You and I, we admitted it ourselves," Hotch blurted, and immediately regretted it. "Didn't we? We said we would take things slow. But we didn't."

"At least I _tried!_" Emily exhaled, her face scrunched up in an effort to keep from raising her voice again. "Open your eyes, Aaron. Haley was jealous at the time; you know it, and I know you do. Listen to yourself! You've obviously made up your mind, and maybe I get it, or maybe I don't, but I've never heard you sound like this before. I've never seen you let someone take the reigns of your life so readily. How do you know she's not jealous now? _You told me yourself_ that she never wanted you two to separate. You're not thinking straight. You're not being the Aaron Hotchner I know, and you're certainly not being the Aaron Hotchner I knew eight years ago."

"Emily, _please_." Hotch hadn't anticipated that it would hurt this much. He had never experienced such pain; not even when he had told Haley he wanted a divorce. If that wasn't telling, he didn't know what was.

Yet he kept quiet.

"Can I say just one more thing?" Emily was still now. "Not as your girlfriend, or whatever I was to you, but as a woman. From a woman's point of view. You're going to get hurt. I know you don't believe me, and maybe you never will, but it's your life not mine. She's going to use you." To her surprise, Hotch made no effort to contradict her.

But then again, she had already established the fact that he had no more fight left in him. That much was evident.

Silence fell over them in waves.

"So, if things go back to normal for you two…and for Jack…are you going to remarry her?" The thought made Emily's stomach lurch.

"I doubt it, no," Hotch immediately said. "That's…so far into the future. All I've thought about is tomorrow and maybe the day after that. I don't know where we're going."

_So far in the future._ Emily mulled over the words. So it wasn't a temporary thing, then. He was hoping it would be real. Emily didn't know what to think, or how to react.

Once again, she mustered a wry, ironic little smile. "I guess we weren't meant to be then. Maybe I should've learned that back in ninety-eight. Would've saved us a lot of trouble, right?"

"Not at all." Hotch felt his body begin to ache. "I'm so –"

"I guess what everyone says is right; you can never get rid of the soft spot for your first love."

Finally, their identical gazes met. "But you were my first love, Emily," he whispered.

"First _real_ love, I mean," Emily corrected, and it hurt to speak the words. Hotch recoiled as if he had just been slapped in the face. He knew it deserved it; but it didn't make the raw emotion behind her comments sting any less.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed, not sure what else to do or say.

Emily nodded idly. "I think I'll just…get my salad to go. I've lost my appetite," she said, more to herself than to anyone else.

She was moving towards the door, her boxed salad in hand, when Hotch stopped her with a hand around her slender wrist. "Emily…" It was an action they had repeated one too many times, and had nearly always been followed up with a kiss. But this time, Hotch could only bow his head in shame. "I'm so sorry. I hope you know that."

Emily's eyes burned, but no tears fell. She, too, had lost all the fight in her. "Yeah," she murmured. "I'm sorry, too."

And with a last, longing look, she maneuvered out of his hold and out the door, into the busy nameless street where she was just another woman falling slowly in and out of love.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: You all have no idea how many times I felt like chickening out and ending the chapter with a cliffhanger. But I couldn't do that, not to myself, and certainly not to you all. Really, I do not think it is possible for me to communicate to you how much your feedback means to me. I keep getting constantly inspired; you all exceed my expectations with every new chapter. So thank you so very much for reading. If you have the time, please leave a review. I know I've been lacking on individual responses lately, and I am so sorry for that, but I'm hoping to jump back into that groove again, now that the stress is easing up just a bit. You all are so appreciated, and I want you all to know that! So thank you for everything in advance. Also...<strong>

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><p><strong>Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>

**Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!**

**www. fan fiction.**

**net/topic/74868/69379386/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2011, and Aug. 31st, 2012, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**

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><p><strong>My sincerest thanks in advance!<strong>


	36. Gone

**Author's Note: I always think life is going to get less busy, and I am always proven wrong. I try not to use that an excuse, because even I begin feeling antsy when I don't update in more than two weeks. First things first, however, I really just need to thank you all for the overwhelming - and I mean, _really_overwhelming, response to the previous chapter. I don't know how I'm so blessed, but I'm just going to keep doing what I do, and I can only hope you'll continue to enjoy.**

**Thank you to no end, and very happy reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Just when Emily was sure nothing else could go badly, life proved her terribly wrong.<p>

A week had passed, or maybe it had been two weeks; Emily couldn't bring herself to keep track. The fact of the matter was, it was Hotch's first day back. She learned through the grapevine that Jack's arm was still broken, though his head no longer hurt from his concussion. She was glad for that much, though it would have been nicer to hear it from the man himself.

Emily gave a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders, glad no one's gaze was on her. She trusted they would be able to make like adults and continue on with their working relationship without letting personal matters impede their way. They were damn good agents, and nothing could change that.

That didn't stop her heart from pounding in her ears when she laid eyes on him for the first time in however many days.

She felt pathetic; the man obviously hadn't thought anything through! Yes, his son was his everything and she understood that, she really did, but it wasn't impossible for them to have worked something out in the meantime. He was disillusioned, naïve, and _blind_. Emily knew she sounded jealous, but Haley was so obviously playing him. He was a profiler, the best she knew…yet he couldn't see it.

It maddened her to no end.

At the end of the day, however, Emily was strong enough to know and accept that the past was the past. She wasn't one to dwell on past grievances, or cry over the way things had turned out. She was a professional; their team dynamic would _not_ be changed, not because of her.

Not because of her, but because of someone else.

Emily learned it the hard way when she heard the sharp clap of heels against tile behind her, when she heard her name ring out in the bullpen, the question falling from the lips of a woman she had hoped she would never have to speak to again.

"Agent Prentiss, may I see you in my office, please?"

Strauss. Just thinking of the woman made Emily sick to her stomach. She didn't know what she wanted; all she knew was that it couldn't be anything good.

Slowly, she maneuvered out of her chair, taking careful measures to meet no one's eyes except the Section Chief's. She didn't want to see anyone's curious stares; her day was off to a bad enough start already.

Emily bit her lip, then wordlessly made her way down the corridor, her every stride just two steps behind Strauss.

It was when they settled into seats across from one another, and when Strauss actually began to speak, that Emily's head began to ache.

There was no fanfare, no cordial greeting. Strauss barely even waited until Emily was in a seat before beginning the soliloquy she had undoubtedly rehearsed a number of times before confronting her once and for all.

She didn't even leave room for Emily to interrupt.

"I put you in the BAU, Agent Prentiss," Strauss began, and already, Emily was appalled. "I knew how badly you wanted it. Everyone did. You were never exactly shy about letting us know," she said, her voice not without sarcasm. A beat passed. "But there were those who didn't think assigning you to the BAU was a good idea. They thought you were too reckless. _I_ believed in you, however. And it's time to pay back the faith I had."

Stunned and even a bit numb, Emily opened her mouth to speak out in protest…but no words came out. How could they, when her entire body had stiffened as she listened to the older woman's deprecating words? The statements were already sinking in, yet she had not the slightest idea what Strauss was telling her. What did she mean?

What did anything mean?

"Your team is in trouble," Strauss finally continued, and Emily's head jerked up at the sound of her voice. "They've lost sight of their big picture. I believe they are reckless and, at times, out of control." Strauss let out a heavy sigh, and Emily had the sinking feeling deep in her gut that whatever the woman had to say next was not going to pretty.

Much to her dismay, she was right.

"It's time for Agent Hotchner's career to come to an end," Strauss said with bruising finality. "And if you want to stay in the BAU, Agent Prentiss, you're going to help me make that happen."

It was as if Emily's world was crumbling around her.

Nothing was right anymore; there was no good or clean way out. She couldn't defend Hotch without incriminating them both even more; what would happen to them if Strauss found out about the previous nature of their relationship? She couldn't risk her job either…she was certain that even without her presence in the BAU, Strauss would still continue to go after Hotch. Nothing would stop the woman.

And that worried Emily to no end.

There was only one real choice…and even that tore Emily to pieces. To bring about the end of Hotch's career would kill Emily all the same. They didn't have to be together anymore for Emily to remind herself that she still loved the man. How was she supposed to break him, to bring him down so far when she truly believed that he was one of the only agents left with pure, selfless motives and such great determination? The passion and control he exhibited in the field was unparalleled. Surely Erin Strauss had to know that.

But at the moment, it was as if Strauss was blind. Her hatred was, too, and it was something Emily would never understand. She didn't want to either way. What she wanted was to run away, to rewind their lives nine years and fight to keep everything as perfect as it had been.

What she wanted, however, she wouldn't be able to get.

It was with a begrudging heart and the most curiously blank expression on her face that Emily met Strauss's gaze. She swallowed thickly, mentally apologizing for what she was about to do.

"What do you need done?"

~.~.~

Not five days had passed before Emily'd had enough. The incessant calls at every hour of the work day, the unspoken, sickening authority, the feeling of filth that cloaked her skin whenever she met gazes with the older woman; it was all too much to handle, and Emily knew it would only get worse when they would leave home for a case.

So she backed out.

She made a rash decision, but in that moment, it was all that made sense. No matter how much distaste Emily had for Hotch, she wasn't about to _spy _on the man. No, her espionage days had long been over.

It was all this that she was thinking of when her hand finally connected with the solid, unyielding wood of Hotch's office door.

Emily caught the end of a conversation that made her all the more confused as she stepped into the office she had been in a million times before. "What about heading up a white-collar crime task force?" she heard Strauss ask. "That'll get you home at nights at a reasonable hour."

Hotch's eyes were on her in a heartbeat. She couldn't bear it…she was so close to caving in. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, and it was directed more towards Strauss than to handsome man in the room. Finally, however, she caught his gaze. "Sir," she greeted, her breathing already shallow, "I've…decided to resign from the FBI effective immediately."

Hotch had to physically restrain himself from dropping his jaw. He shook his head just barely, just enough for her to notice. "I…I don't understand," he said numbly. Emily wondered what was going through his mind at the moment; she wondered the same about Strauss.

She wondered if Hotch was thinking the same thing she was, that working in the BAU and going without seeing one another each and every day would be an experience too strange to fathom. But Emily caught herself; it wouldn't strange for Hotch, she supposed. Not when he had already broken things off between them.

She could have slapped herself at that very moment. He had asked her a question, one that Strauss was undoubtedly waiting impatiently for the answer to. Their so-called relationship should have been the last thing on her mind…and after all, she really didn't want to blame him. It wasn't his fault, per se.

It was Haley's.

"I'm taking the foreign service exam," Emily said, after a long enough silence. "With my connections, I stand a good chance of landing in the State Department."

Hotch's eyes were hard, but she could see the hint of sadness and fiery protest behind them. "Prentiss, I think that's a mistake," he said earnestly, willing her to reconsider.

But Emily wouldn't budge. "Well, don't try to talk me out of it." _There was the stubbornness_, Hotch noticed with a sigh. "Garcia saw my name on the list and she already tried. If she can't talk someone out of doing something, no one can."

Silence reigned once more, and the former lovers gazed at each other, reading each other's hearts and souls, for the longest of times before remembering that they still had an audience. "Sorry for the interruption," Emily said, and this time, her voice was quieter, more resigned. "But, sir, it's good to see you back. The team needs you," she said pointedly, and not without a glance toward Strauss. Something fishy was going on, and she would have nothing of it…though it wasn't as if she had any more authority within the Bureau. She was leaving; she was gone.

~.~.~

Emily couldn't bring herself to be surprised when she heard a familiar knocking on her apartment door. She didn't even have to make a guess as to who was waiting on her; somehow, she just knew.

And if she were being honest with herself, she knew she didn't want to talk to him at the moment. Not because of what they had gone through as a couple…or whatever they had been; but because Emily knew he would demand an explanation, and she wasn't ready to give him that. She wasn't ready to communicate to him everything that was going through her mind and heart…partially because she couldn't make sense of any of it herself.

But she couldn't stay away, not from him. No, just thinking of Hotch standing behind her front door was enough to make her body ache; and before she knew it, she was striding forward, letting the music she had been singing aloud to be her guide and her courage. One step, then another, and another…finally, Emily was there, pulling open the door. She was there, in a place she didn't want to be.

And so was he.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Not really a cliffhanger, but I'm ending it there because the upcoming events must be grouped together and will be in the next chapter - which will be a longer one, no worries. Besides, assuming you all have seen the season two finale and "In Name and Blood" (3x02), you know the gist what's about to happen. I say 'the gist' because I'm about to change some stuff up...and I just know you all will enjoy it. As always, thank you so much for reading! If you have a moment or two, please leave me a review! I'd love to know what you think so far. Your feedback is such a treasure for me.<strong>

**Also...**

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><p><strong>Nominations are open for the 2012 Annual Profiler's Choice Awards!<strong>

_**This Monday (October 15th) is the last day that nomination ballots can be turned in!**_

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><p><strong>Go to the link below for more details (remove all spaces). You need an account on FFN to nominate, but it's really easy to set one up!<strong>

**www. fan fiction.**

**net/topic/74868/69379386/1**

**Make sure to read EVERYTHING on the page before nominating! ALL stories (complete or in-progress) updated between Sep. 1st, 2011, and Aug. 31st, 2012, are eligible. Just check the date of a story's latest update and, if it's in that range, it's eligible! :)**


	37. Turbulence

**Author's Note: ...if you don't hate me already, you might after the end of this chapter - you know, the part that will earn the M-rating this story already has. I'm prepared to explain myself, as always, but really, I'm going somewhere with all this madness, and it's a place I'm certain you all will (eventually) like. And hey, this chapter's a longer one, too! So hopefully that'll give you more to enjoy. :)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"You know what I'm about to ask you."<p>

Emily stared at him for a long moment, watching as he strode into her apartment without much fanfare. She didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. Instead, she settled with a quiet shake of her head. "Sure, come right on in," she murmured under her breath, her infamous dry wit bleeding through her tone.

Hotch bit back a smirk. He was here for serious business, he reminded himself. _Serious_, his conscience screamed, as he took in Emily's attire; black yoga pants and a thin red silk top that was just begging him to come closer, to touch, to feel.

_Serious. _

Heart pounding, he waited until Emily padded back into her kitchen before speaking once more. "Why'd you do it?"

Emily's smile was rueful as she leaned against her counter; the same counter she remembered Hotch lifting her onto reverently, right before he spread her apart and –

Her elbows pressed against the marble, letting the coldness of the stone sink deep into her skin. "Oh, Aaron…" A heavy sigh broke the tense silence. "You really don't want to know," she said after a while, idly running a finger along the rim of the glass of wine she had previously been enjoying.

It was like he was entranced; for a moment, all Hotch could do was watch Emily's slender fingers dance along the glass. What it reminded him of was the most exquisite torture…the way those same fingers felt dancing along his skin. He missed her, he realized.

But he had made his decision, and he would stick to it.

Carefully gauging her reaction, he caught her fingers with his, effectively stopping and surprising her and pulling her back to the present. He was perilously close to her now, her back almost right against his front. She could feel his hot breath fanning out against her neck, and it made her…antsy. Giddy. It made her feel things she knew she shouldn't have been feeling.

But damn, she wanted to.

Slowly, and still from behind her, Hotch reached for the wine bottle, and before he could do anything else, Emily poured him a glass as well. They had always functioned that way, reading each other's actions and thoughts and always staying one step ahead of the other. They were masters of human behavior, but, ironically, not of one another's.

"I do want to know," Emily heard Hotch rumble, and her eyes fell shut in denial.

"What were you and Strauss talking about before I came into your office?" she asked instead, ignoring him for the moment. She had always liked keeping him on his toes, after all.

…and on his knees.

She could feel him glaring unforgivingly at her, but it didn't sway her. Instead, she simply turned to meet his gaze, not at all surprised at the burning intensity she saw reflected in his handsome eyes.

"I'm going to keep asking, Emily."

_And I'm going to keep ignoring you_, was Emily's unspoken but obvious answer. She waited for him to take a long sip of his wine; she waited for him to cave in. He always did, eventually, and this time was no exception. His response, however, was something Emily could not have ever prepared herself for.

"My suspension," he disclosed finally, with a tempered huff. "We were discussing my suspension."

Emily couldn't remember ever feeling more caught off-guard; except maybe for when he had told her that he and Haley were starting over. She almost began to choke. "Your _what?_"

"My suspension, Emily," Hotch repeated, as if it were old news already. His indifferent tone unnerved her to no end. "I asked her about…other units. Other opportunities for me outside of the BAU."

Emily wasn't sure just how long her mouth had been wide open. "Suspension?" she echoed numbly, incredulously. "On what grounds?" The damned woman. It was as if she wanted so desperately to break up their team's already tenuous structure. Getting rid of their Unit Chief - their rock - would do just that. Emily was, quite simply, infuriated.

And Hotch was weary. "You know Strauss has never needed a reason for the things she does, Emily."

"I don't believe this –"

But Hotch was tired of beating around the bush, of being ignored. "Answer me," he said firmly, though the look in his eyes conveyed his almost tender concern. "Why are you resigning, Emily? The BAU is your home, has been your dream for…forever."

It wasn't as if he had to remind her; after all, she had been the one to tell him, all those priceless years ago. Emily fondly remembered the look of astonishment and satisfaction he'd had on his face then. It had seemed as if he was proud of her, pleased with the revelation. As if he had plans for them, years down the line. Unit chief and subordinate, lover to lover.

Where were those plans now?

With a quiet sigh, Emily drifted away from Hotch and toward the picture window he had always liked; the one that captured the most perfect view of DC, the one they had made love right in front of, the act so public yet so private, in their own wistful worlds.

Her voice wrapped around him like silk, taking him off guard. "Do you really want to know?"

Suddenly, he was behind her again, his presence intoxicating. "Yes," he whispered, though his heart was telling him something else.

"Strauss called me into her office the other day," Emily finally revealed, and Hotch couldn't bring himself to be surprised. "She told me things I didn't understand…or didn't want to."

Emily felt him shift forward; she took a step further away. "She wanted me to spy on you." The words were heavy on her tongue, blunt in the still air surrounding them. "For her. So she could get rid of you."

Hotch stiffened perceptibly enough, and though he really had no control of his facial expressions at the moment, he imagined his visage was flat, unseeing. "Wh-why?" he stuttered. "Why you?"

That made Emily scoff. "Because I'm the newbie. Because _I don't know you as well_." She said the blatant lie with a tone dripping with sarcasm, but Hotch didn't miss the way her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. "Because, clearly…no one saw me fit to be on the team, but Strauss _did me a favor_, thinking she'd get a puppet out of the goodness of her cold heart."

Hotch ached to reach out for her; he could feel her slipping, cracking under the pressure of the immaculately compartmentalized boxes she was so good at arranging. "Who told you this?" he asked, and he cursed the fact that his voice sounded so…breathless.

"_She _did." Emily shook her head, a wry, rueful smile flirting at her lips. "And to think, all this time, I thought I had made it where I am today out of my hard work and determination, my blood, sweat, and tears." It was abundantly clear she wasn't terribly shaken, but for the love of all things holy, she had no lack of sharp wit and anger.

He couldn't help it; before he had the chance to think, he had reached out to grasp her arm. "Don't you dare believe a word she tells you." It was Emily's turn to stiffen, her gaze falling to where his hand was resting on her skin. The setting was suddenly too intimate for her to handle; she didn't know how to react. She knew how she wanted to…but she knew, _she knew_ it was so wrong.

Slowly, she pulled away. "Why are you here?" she finally questioned.

Hypocritical man that he was, Hotch ignored her query and said instead, almost stunned, "You resigned to save my ass."

His statement made Emily cock her head to the side curiously, a stubborn frown taking the place of the awkward smile that had once been. "No, Aaron. I resigned because I hate political games." _And because I could never do anything like that…to you._

It took everything Hotch had within him to prevent from recoiling. He wasn't about to lie; her straightforward denial, no matter how stubborn, stung like the Devil. But there was nothing he could do about it anymore. That much he was going to have to learn soon enough, he supposed.

Shaking his head idly, Hotch let his mind run circles. It was obvious their dynamic had changed. "I'm here because we have one more case," he said simply.

Emily didn't know whether or not laughing was an acceptable response. "Aaron…what about 'resigning from the BAU' do you not understand?"

But Hotch was persistent and stubborn to no end, and this time was no exception. "Come to Milwaukee," he implored her. "I'll make you a deal – if your ready bag isn't here, packed, I won't bug you anymore." His eyes were blazing now. "But if it is…_then I want you on that plane with me."_

_~.~.~_

If he were being honest with himself, Hotch knew he wanted her in a multitude of different ways. They hadn't talked much since boarding the jet, save for when Emily had made him a cup of strong black coffee without even asking. She had always known what he needed and when he needed it.

He knew it was wrong; _he had made his decision_, and certainly could not back out now. Being indecisive was going to help no one, and certainly not himself.

But now, his desire for her was becoming too difficult to hide, as was abundantly clear when they hit turbulence – damned thunderstorms – and Emily, who had been walking up and down the center aisle instead of sitting with her seatbelt fastened, was then vaulted into his lap.

Without even a second of thought, Hotch's arms went around Emily's slender waist, holding her in place and steadying her as the plane continued to shake, worse than it had been in the previous hours. All the while, Emily stared at him, an unreadable expression on her face. He could tell her mind was running circles…but then again, so was his.

He had almost forgotten how right it had felt to have her in his arms.

It was quite a while later when Emily broke the fragile silence, her voice raspy and low. "You can let me go now," she informed, trying to ignore how close their bodies were.

The words fell from Hotch's lips before he could stop them. "I don't think I want to, Emily."

Emily's jaw dropped just a titch. Was he really saying this? "H – Aaron," she warned; though she made no attempt to move out from his hold, when she easily could have. She knew what he was doing; she knew it was wrong. "No…you need to make up your mind."

"I know I do," he rumbled, his breathing already labored. "But you're making it…very hard."

She bit back her smirk. "Oh, so it's my fault then?" she deadpanned. Even as she said the words, she brought an arm up to wrap around his neck. It was an unhealthy game they were playing, but they had played it before…they had flirted along the line of danger too many times to count.

This would just be another notch on their proverbial bedpost.

Hotch didn't answer. Rather, he simply adjusted her position on his lap. "I thought we agreed we'd be professional," he murmured almost mockingly. He had known it for a while; Emily brought out a different side in him. As of yet, he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing.

Emily actually laughed at that, though her laugh was dry and rueful. "You took complete charge of the entire ordeal, Aaron," she reminded, and her bottom lip quivered – with contempt? – once more. "I don't know _what_ I agreed to."

"I'm not sure it was this." Slowly, he teased her neck with a kiss, nuzzling the precious skin there as he breathed in her telltale fragrance. He could feel that Emily was still drawn as tight as a bow; her shoulders and back were stiff, but that would have to change. He liked to think all traces of gentlemanliness were not lost, however. He couldn't help nor control himself…but he wasn't about to prevent her from having a say.

"Tell me to stop, Emily," he whispered in her ear, reveling in the shiver he felt course down her spine. "Tell me to stop and I will, I promise you that."

Emily's eyes slammed shut as his teeth found the sensitive shell of her ear. They couldn't do this…they'd given this up for a reason. "St – _oh, Aaron_."

"Come on, Emily," he practically taunted, as his hands stroked the skin of her hips. "Say the word. Or can you not?" A beat passed. "Or do you not want to?"

_"We can't,"_ she ground out.

"Tell me to stop," he tossed right back, unwavering.

_"No."_ Emily tossed her hair over her shoulder, baring her teeth at him in the process. "Fuck professionalism. I've never been your submissive, Aaron Hotchner, and I'll be damned if I start now. You are not my boss anymore."

"Exactly." His mouth was perilously close to hers now. "Technically, neither one of us is with the BAU at the moment. That's the beauty of it."

_So you're just going to ignore your precious Haley whom you seemed to care so much about when you broke things off between us? _Emily's head began to hurt. "This is fucked up," she moaned, but she could feel herself yielding to his desires – _her _desires.

He grinned; she'd always had such a dirty mouth, and God, it turned him on to no end. "Yeah. It really is."

And without any more fanfare, he dove in for his feast.

~.~.~

She tasted greater than he had imagined she would, and there had been plenty of imagining as of late. Her skin was smooth, her chest heaving, her eyes glassy. She was a goddess and, for a moment, Hotch allowed himself to be convinced she was still his. He had been a damn fool to let her go…but he wasn't thinking about that now. He couldn't _think_, period; not when he was tugging Emily's soft shirt over her head, not when he was undoing the fastenings of her slacks faster than he had ever thought possible.

His wasn't a one-sided effort, however. Emily gave as good as she got, biting at the column of Hotch's throat as she shoved his hands aside and unbuckled his belt, unzipping his own pants and freeing him from his blue cotton boxers. They knew each other well enough to understand this wasn't about to be short and sweet, or reminiscent, or meaningful.

No, they had no time for fancies like that. This was a rough fuck and nothing more, solely a means of releasing frustration and grasping at a moment of pleasure, however wrong it might be, in the midst of plentiful and unrelenting chaos.

They didn't even bother to fully rid one another of their clothes. Their minds were set on a single task…and their bodies were as well.

Emily was forced to bite down on her lower lip hard enough to bleed when Hotch fisted a hand in her hair and tugged her in a different direction entirely, causing her to sprawl out on the longest seat in the jet. He stalked her like a predator does his prey, his eyes dark and almost gleaming.

Yet he spared her a smile. "I wanted to tell you earlier today, but of course, it wasn't appropriate," he said nonchalantly, as he hovered over her, his hardened cock jutting forward to push just barely against her glistening folds. She wasn't the only one who could be a painful tease; he was going to make sure she knew that by the end of the day.

_"You look stunning."_

That was all the warning he afforded Emily before taking her with one sure, steamy stroke.

It took everything they had to keep from screaming. Stars dancing behind her eyelids, Emily threw all caution to the wind and pressed her mouth firmly to that of her former lover. It was such a callous title; _former lover_. It made her want to be pained, but she couldn't be, not when she was so preoccupied. Not when she could instead be reveling in the look of bliss written across Hotch's face. Not when she was taking charge.

It caught him off-guard; one minute, he was gazing down at her, his lips upturned at the glorious sight…and the next, he was beneath her, struggling to remember how to breathe. He didn't mind the change. Emily was a fighter in every aspect.

He had loved that about her.

For a moment, Hotch actually stopped. It was something he had always had a problem with, at least with Emily; having foresight when it came to situations like the one they were currently in. Not once had he thought to ask, _What are we doing?_ Even now, questioning himself, he knew nothing was going to change his mind. Emily was too potent a drug, and he was too selfish a man. She undoubtedly thought he no longer had any morals…and he didn't know if he could fault her for believing anything of the such.

He didn't even know if he would disagree with her.

Emily, on the other hand, only used his pause to her advantage. Raking her fingers through his hair, she effectively brought him back to the present, smiling devilishly when she saw his eyes blacken once more. Wherever his mind had been wandering was no more; it was time to play. Time to feast. Time to sin.

"You're being awfully quiet for a man who seemed so willing to assert his dominance just a few minutes earlier." Her tongue found the shell of his ear, and her mouth was split wide with a grin when Hotch responded with a brutal thrust. Much to their shared delight – and yes, some pleasured pain –, Hotch took the initiative to pick up the pace, yet he still remained quiet, save for the occasional grunt here and there. She was burning him from the inside out, and God, _it felt so damn good._

"Fuck," he finally gasped, when Emily's slender fingers crept under his shirt and traced over his scars. He bit down on her collarbone hard, moving his hips in a frenzy as he fought to get them closer to that coveted precipice. Their journey was not without obstacles, many of which were provided by the former lovers themselves. Hotch had a permanent snarl on his face, and Emily'd had enough. She was back in a mocking mood. He had hurt her, regardless of whether she showed it outwardly or not.

Now it was his time.

It was after he had gotten progressively angrier, for God knows what reason, that Emily reared back, catching him off-guard once more. He was so far off his game…and while she was so close to blinding release, Emily was also feeling ruthless.

"What's wrong?" she taunted, her voice breathy and so seductive. _This is a mistake_, her conscience chanted. _This is a mistake, a bad mistake, and he knows it. _But this time, Emily didn't yield. "What's wrong, Aaron? Haley can't please you the way I could?"

Hotch couldn't prevent it; he let out an outright roar and pummeled into her, panting and breaking as Emily finally climaxed with him, ignoring the fact that their pilot was mere feet away. They paid him no heed. Instead, Hotch tried in vain to diminish the pounding in his head; he buried his face between Emily's satin-cased breasts, her skin tasting of sex and sweat and rage.

He hated the comment she had made. He hated his conscience for betraying him, for there was a small voice in the back of his mind whispering that maybe she was right. He hated this mess, he hated himself, he hated _her. _

So he had been correct. No good could have come from their frantic and angry coupling, but they had gone at it anyway. There was no foresight, only numbness. And guilt. And regret.

Nothing was easy anymore. Bliss was gone. Before he realized what he was saying, before he even realized he was _actually_ speaking, Hotch allowed a few heavy words to fall from his chapped lips. "Sometimes, I find myself missing when you were just a chef."

Silence.

It took less than a second for Hotch to realize what he had done. He opened his mouth to speak, to correct himself…but Emily let him get no words past. Already, she was moving, rearranging her clothes, distancing themselves. Finally, she let out a mirthless laugh, shaking her head all the while as she gazed at him with hard but beautiful eyes. "Fuck you, too, Aaron," she said tightly.

"But you already did."

Hotch couldn't honestly bring himself to be surprised – or angry – when he received a sharp slap across his face.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: ...I'm sorry! I promise this'll be worth it. The going gets really good in the next couple chapters; the action is picking up. Of course, I'd love to know what you think. If you have the time, please don't hesitate to leave me a review. Your feedback is really and truly the best compensation I could ask for, and your constant support means so much. Thank you in advance!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Also, the final ballot for the Profiler's Choice Awards has been posted on the Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Thank you so much to everyone - all of you - who nominated Kiss The Cook for the Best HotchEmily category! I'm really honored. If I could ask for just one more minute of your time: it would mean the world to me if you'd head over to the link posted below (remove all spaces) to cast your vote.**

****www. fan fiction.****

**net/topic/74868/**73609377/1/#73609533****

**Final voting ends November 30th. As always, thank you so much for your support!**


	38. No Light, No Light

**Author's Note: Those of you who follow me on twitter know that the past month has been a whirlwind of endless auditions and vocal competitions for me. This is honestly the first time I've had the sanity and ability to sit down and let the words come through. Rest assured that writing is all I will be doing this Thanksgiving break, however; so stay tuned! And thank you as always for your overwhelming support. It is impossible for me to put into words how much it means to me.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One! **

* * *

><p>Despite how relentlessly persistent he had been when asking Emily to come with him for one last case, Hotch now found himself feeling increasingly more regretful that he had brought her along. He didn't know why he hadn't realized she would do what she always did in the field; that she would put everyone's wellbeing before hers, that she would sacrifice herself for the greater good, that she would insist on going into the Smith household without backup for the sole purpose of having stealth on their side.<p>

He knew deep in his gut it wasn't a good idea. Yet he let her go. He knew no one would be able to hold her back. Even Strauss had tried; and Hotch could taste the tension in the air as the two women stared at one another, engaging in a battle of wills. Emily had a point, however; she was no longer an agent of the BAU. She was just a civilian knocking on a little boy's door.

Strauss no longer had any authority over her.

Though it wasn't as if anyone had ever had authority over Emily Prentiss. _Independent_.The word flashed before Hotch's eyes, and he couldn't help but remember the day he had given the red jade necklace to her for her birthday. She had been absolutely over the moon…it had made him so happy to see her so pleased.

Oh, how things changed.

She wasn't wearing the necklace anymore. Hotch couldn't bring himself to be surprised. It wasn't as if they were being cordial. All of those pretenses had disappeared the moment they boarded the jet together. It filled him with a myriad of emotions, and concern was most certainly at the forefront.

He could do nothing but watch as Morgan handed her his backup piece, as she took a steadying breath and made to head into the house where their unsub was undoubtedly about to harm his next victim. He waited until she was a suitable distance away from everyone else before handing her his cell phone and attaching it to her belt. He knew he didn't need to tell her anything; she could read his instructions straight from his eyes. But he spoke anyway, his voice low. "As soon as you have probable cause, give us a signal and _get out of there_."

Emily caught his gaze, wondering at the way he had muttered the last four words. He hadn't been authoritative; no, he had been worried. Maybe even…caring.

She gave a swift nod, then cracked a barely amused smile. "I will. I'm a big girl, Hotch. But…you already knew that."

And with that, she disappeared.

~.~.~

Much to his chagrin, Hotch's concerns were justified.

Emily wasn't responding to his calling in her earpiece.

She wasn't making a sound inside the house.

She wasn't signaling them to come in.

Too much time had passed; with every second that passed, Hotch became more and more sick to his stomach. Something was so wrong, so very wrong. And they couldn't go inside the damn house, not without probable cause.

Hotch was sure he was going insane. He understood now more than ever why intra-team fraternization was severely frowned upon. He couldn't think straight, he couldn't focus.

He almost jumped out of his skin when, seemingly hours later, Emily pressed the key to signal them inside. He could feel the chaos thick in the air as they ran into the house. Cold sweat dripped down his neck as he heard a scream…

…and then silence. Drowning, all-encompassing, bruising silence.

He forgot what breathing was, that is was necessary, and how to do it when he saw Emily curled up on the floor, her wrists tied together, blood dripping down her forehead and onto her chest, ruining the pale pink blouse she was so fond of. He couldn't even spare Joe Smith so much as a hateful glance; Hotch barely allowed himself to disarm the young boy – the Devil's poor son – before making his way over to Emily.

No one else mattered in that moment. It was all Hotch wanted to do to take Emily into his arms and never let her go, to swear to her that he would never leave her side, that he would protect her for as long as they both lived. But he couldn't do that – not yet, not anymore. So he forced himself to settle with the next best thing. Carefully, he helped her to her feet, his heart wrenching at the throaty, pained little moan that slipped from her lips at the motion.

Of course, she was as stubborn as usual, and the moment she was on her feet, she gazed at him with unfocused eyes and frowned. "I'm fine, Hotch," she answered the question she knew he was bound to ask. "I can walk from here."

His lips stretched into a pale, thin line. He knew a lie when he heard one. Especially when it came from Emily. He knew her in and out. "Are you sure, Pr – Emily?"

"Yes."

But she couldn't. His stomach lurched as his gaze fell to the two-by-four on the ground that was smeared with her blood. She was undoubtedly disoriented, with at least a mild concussion and a cut deep enough to need stitches. Her wrists would be bruised…only God knew what else the bastard had done to her before she had been able to call for help.

Yet here she was, insisting she was fine.

Hotch would have none of it. Catching Emily as she almost fell to the ground once more, he made up his mind. Whispering placating words under his breath, he lifted Emily in a fireman's hold. He expected her to fight, to demand he put her back down, to shout to the heavens and beyond that she needed _no one's_ help.

Instead, she looped her arms around his neck and held on tight as he carried her to the waiting ambulance. It surprised him as she burrowed her face into his chest, breathing him in; though, when they stepped out of the dreaded house, he knew why she was doing it.

Cameras surrounded them. Reporters swarmed the lawn like moths to a flame, and even the resident police officers were having a hard time containing them. FBI involvement in a neighborhood case never failed to make the headlines of local papers. Once again, Hotch didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him that this time would be no exception.

Hotch caught Dave's gaze from far away, and all it took was one barked order to get what he wanted done.

_"Get the press out of here."_

_~.~.~_

He didn't really want to be one of those people who could do nothing but hover, but Hotch didn't know what else to do while Emily was being checked out by EMS. He hated feeling helpless, especially when it came to her. It was a frightening sight; almost every time he glanced over at her, there seemed to be more blood marring her perfect, beautiful skin. It was a sight he knew would be burned into his vision for the rest of his life. He thought of her enough as it was; day in and day out, without fail.

That was the one thing Haley couldn't and wouldn't change.

"You're making me nervous."

He barely heard the muttered words, and if it hadn't been for the telltale look on Emily's face, he would have been sure nothing had been said. He blinked in confusion. "Sorry?"

"You're making me nervous," she repeated, her voice raspy yet flat. "You're hovering. Again."

The struggle to stay professional was the most ruining he had ever experienced. "I…didn't mean to. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." _I wanted you to know that, despite everything, I do care._

"I'm fine, Aar – Hotch." Unable to do much else at the moment, she raised an eyebrow in the direction of the EMT that was looking her over. "I'm in good hands."

"That's not what I meant and you know it –"

But it was clear Emily was done talking to him. Instead, her attention moved from him to Morgan and JJ, who came over almost instantly and began fussing over her. Hotch watched with ill-placed envy as JJ ran a hand through Emily's hair to comfort her; as Morgan gave her hand a consoling squeeze. Hotch wasn't even spared a single other glance. The pain he felt in result was worse than anything he had ever physically endured. He supposed he deserved it. He had been an ass to her the day before. And days before that as well. The game they were playing was a nasty one. But he knew it wouldn't be ending any time soon.

He was just going to have to find a way to deal. He couldn't help but realize, however, that, if he had been in any other situation, his saving grace would have been Emily himself.

With a burning sensation in his throat, Hotch took his leave, never once noticing the way Emily's gaze settled on his retreating figure for a second longer. A second was all it took. One second, and they were on the jet once more. One second, and it was finally night.

One second, and years had flown by.

_"Emily."_

Hotch had the feeling she wasn't truly sleeping; everyone else on the jet was, but there were some things he just _knew_ about the woman. She hadn't been able to sleep the night of her accident, so it wasn't surprising that she couldn't sleep now. Three days in Milwaukee had been three days too many. It was dark and quiet and felt like home as they traveled miles above city after city, but there was still an emptiness inside Hotch's chest as he moved so that he was closer to the long seat Emily was sprawled out on.

"Emily," he whispered again, and it took every ounce of restraint he had to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I'm not asking you to talk. I'm just asking you to listen…if you can."

He swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry. My actions two days ago on our flight were completely…inappropriate and hurtful, and the things that I said were even more so. They were lies that were said in the heat of the moment and I regret having opened my mouth in the first place. It's been on my mind all day; _you've_ been on my mind all day. I know a simple apology isn't enough to reverse the mess we're in – the mess I've only increased. But I hope you know that, despite the angry remarks…I really was genuinely fearful for you yesterday afternoon. Not just because you're my agent and an integral part of this team."

Hotch shook his head, and he swore he saw Emily's eyelashes flutter just the tiniest bit. "You can call me a coward for saying all this when everyone else thinks you're asleep. When, let's say I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, you _are_ asleep. But…call me crazy, I know you're awake, and I know you can hear this. And I guess that's all I want."

He gazed at her for a second longer before rising to his feet, whispering _good night_, and striding back to the seat across from Dave he had previously been resting in. A newspaper was spread out before him, on the small pullout table separating him from the others in front of him.

Emily recognized the newspaper because a copy of it was folded up in her go-bag. Her open eyes hidden by long lashes and eerie night shadows, she watched as he read the cover story and drank in the accompanying picture.

It was of them. She remembered the cameras flashing all around them, the underpaid journalists clamoring for even the simplest quote that would break open the story for them. It was all about the exclusive; privacy no longer mattered, and it hadn't for too long to count. She had practically memorized the printed story, word for word.

As for the picture...

...when no one had been looking, she had cut it out and tucked it away. The captured moment of Hotch holding her close made her heart skip a beat. The man himself did. He could be a pompous ass...but deep down inside, Emily had an inkling that her feelings for him would never change. A part of her wanted to curse that. It wasn't fair! She didn't have the need to rely on anyone but herself. She needed no man. Yet she founded herself needing him more than ever. The picture told her that.

Hotch had yet to look away from it.

And Emily had yet to look away from him. Even as her head began to throb from her concussion the day before, Emily couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. Instead, she mouthed a _good night_ in response and stared at the jet ceiling until she heard his breathing even out. It was a rhythmic lullaby she had heard many times before; one that set her at peace almost as well as the man himself. The day was done, the world that much safer.

As for them? They were...Aaron and Emily. Hotch and Prentiss. They were stuck, but they would fight it – fight for one another. It was just a matter of when.

~.~.~

"How was the case?"

"You mean you haven't heard the story all over the news?" Hotch's tone was dry, cynical. He paused for a moment, then met his ex-wife's gaze. "I'm…sorry. I didn't mean to sound so crass. It's just been a really long three days."

"I can't imagine," the blonde said, watching from nearby as Hotch unpacked his go-bag. "It was a rough one?"

That made a mirthless whisper of a laugh slip past Hotch's lips. "They all are. But this…this was bad." He knew she wouldn't want to hear about a cancerous man spending his last days cutting out and preserving women's hearts for his son – she had never understood the job – so he skipped to the end of his tale. "The unsub beat Emily over the head with a two-by-four."

Haley's eyes flew open. As much as she didn't want to hear about the other woman, Hotch's answer hadn't been one she was expecting. "Oh my God. Is…is she okay?"

"She's got a concussion, a cut on her temple that needed several stitches, and some nasty bruises. But Emily's a fighter," he said, more to himself than to Haley. "She'll be fine."

Silence lapsed between them. Hotch milled around the room, placing dirty clothes in the hamper and clean ones in his bag. The life of an agent never stopped; it was simply an endless cycle. Finally, the only thing that remained in his hands was the copy of the Milwaukee newspaper he had taken home with him. He stared at it for a second longer before placing it in the nightstand near the guest bed – _his_ bed – but not before Haley got a clear glimpse of the front cover photo. She wisely kept quiet, though she couldn't suppress the tinge of jealousy that flashed through her.

Finally, Hotch let out a sigh. "Look, Haley, I think I'm just going to say goodnight to Jack and then go to bed. I'm exhausted."

"Okay," she relented, watching him with unreadable eyes. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Hotch's eyes fell shut as Haley's small hands came to rest on his shoulders and began to knead – or at least, try to knead – the kinks out of his broad shoulders. "No," he whispered a beat later, taking a single noncommittal step forward. "I'm fine, Haley. Good night."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I'm on a roll with the cliffhangers, I know. And this doesn't even technically count as one, since I scaled this chapter back and ended it earlier than I had originally planned. I'd like to think it was a better decision to end the chapter here...since I was fairly certain I wouldn't be alive for much longer if I ended it where the next chapter begins. But anyway. I promise you this is worth your time - and reviews. You all provide the best motivation and inspiration for me, and I must repay you somehow! So please, if you have a moment, feel free to tell me what you think. I am so thankful!<strong>

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><p><strong>Also, the final ballot for the Profiler's Choice Awards has been posted on the Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Thank you so much to everyone - all of you - who nominated Kiss The Cook for the Best HotchEmily category! I'm really honored. If I could ask for just one more minute of your time: it would mean the world to me if you'd head over to the link posted below (remove all spaces) to cast your vote.**

****www. fan fiction.****

**net/topic/74868/**73609377/1/#73609533****

**Final voting ends November 30th. As always, thank you so much for your support! _Happy Thanksgiving to you all!_**


	39. Nameless

**Author's Note: Feel free to start throwing rocks at Haley now. At Hotch, too. (But not at me. Pleaaaseee.)**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p><em>"I'm fine, Haley. Good night." <em>

Except…Hotch wasn't fine. Rather, he was far from fine. There were a million things on his mind, a myriad of emotions, two women. The thought made him pause, stiffen. Two women? No.

One woman.

Hotch sighed heavily and rolled to his side, crumpling the bedsheets in his fists in the process. He had never known frustration quite like this before. It harrowed him to the bone, weakened home, and disturbed him more than he thought was possible. And it never stopped.

A quiet knock sounded on the guest bedroom door.

…it never stopped.

He glanced quickly at the bedside clock. It was past midnight; there was no way Jack was awake any longer. The young boy had a habit of being woken in the middle of the night by a need for water to drink, but Hotch just knew this wasn't one of those occasions. After all, he would've been able to hear his son's quiet shuffling, Jack's precious night murmurings. It _wasn't_ him. Which left only one more person in the house; the house that contained memories Hotch didn't want to recount. He couldn't bring himself to roll out of bed so he settled with calling out into the dimly lit room. "Come in."

Carefully, as if on her tiptoes, Haley stepped into the room, a tentative smile on her lips. She could feel him watching her, could feel the questions already forming at the tip of his tongue, but she didn't let anything sway her. Instead, she moved to the bed and sat beside him, her legs folded beneath her. "Hey," she greeted, her eyes wide in a way that reminded him of –

He pushed the thoughts far away. "Hey. What's…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "uh, what's up?"

"Nothing really," she said on a shrug that was not nearly as innocent as he could tell she had hoped. "I was just wanting to see how you were doing. I noticed your light was still on. I thought maybe you would want to talk. About your day, about anything. You seem really tense."

Hotch shrugged, turning his body so that he was facing her. "To be quite honest, I don't even notice the tension anymore. Sad, right?" He hadn't really been expecting – or wanting – an answer.

"Yet you love what you do," Haley couldn't help but add. Hotch wondered at the tone of her voice. Contemplative? Awed? Or, more likely, confused.

"I do," he said immediately, firmly. His heart thudded raucously against his rib cage, and there was a pause. "Even when we have days like today."

"Do you think talking about it would help?" she wondered aloud, covering his hand with hers.

Hotch froze for a moment, unable to do anything but look at their hands with an unreadable expression written into every weary crevice of his face. "What is there to talk about?" he managed eventually. "I've said basically everything. I'm too worn out to explain. Explaining would probably just…make things worse." Yet, for some odd reason that he could not discern, Hotch didn't pull his hand from Haley's.

"Okay, so we won't talk," she said patiently. This time, her hand moved up to his shoulder once more. "Tell me what'll help get rid of some of your stress."

Hotch turned his head to the side to fully meet her gaze, not expecting the action to bring them so completely face-to-face. "Haley…" he began, his brows knitting together in absolute confusion.

"_Oh_. I know," she said suddenly, in a breathy little whisper.

And then, she kissed him.

~.~.~

"You called me Emily."

"I..._what?"_ Hotch glanced over at the woman lying in bed beside him, bedsheets held tightly to her chest. He blinked away the early morning sunlight, numb with shock. He couldn't breathe; he didn't really even know where he was. "I did what?"

Haley looked at him with her pale blue eyes; the eyes that looked as if they saw nothing. "Last night, after we..." The memory made her cheeks hot. "You called me Emily." She had been debating whether or not she wanted to disclose that significant bit of information; while sleep had not escaped her, her ex-husband's slip-up had bothered her all night. Not for the first time, she had found herself wondering just how much Emily had meant to him when they been together; she wondered if the brunette still meant something to the man she was currently sharing a bed with.

Haley shrugged the thoughts away. They didn't matter, not anymore.

Hotch, on the other hand, was silent for the longest of moments, plopping his head back against the full, plain white pillows. He had no recollection of the night before, of calling our Emily's name when she should have been far from the front of his thoughts. It wasn't the first time his conscience had betrayed him, however. He had no idea how to respond; and so, he remained quiet.

A sufficiently awkward throat-clearing cut through the tension in the air minutes later. "So, Haley, there's a Bureau fundraising gala next weekend. I'm basically required to go…and I was hoping you'd be interested in going with me. It'll be like a…date." The last word came out with difficulty, but Haley either didn't notice – or she pretended not to.

Haley thought it over for a while, though she knew her answer would never change from a yes. She knew what he was doing; trying to find a way of subtly making it up to her without explicitly saying _sorry_. It was something he had always been good at when it came to their marriage. She supposed she would forgive him.

"Next weekend, you said? So that's, what, ten days?" Hotch gave a slow nod. "Sounds alright to me. Is the rest of the team going to be there as well?" _Is Emily going to be there?_

"Probably. JJ and Garcia have been outfit planning for some time and, well, you know Dave. His presence is practically demanded at these kinds of events," Hotch said, smiling thinly. "So yes, they'll all more than likely attend."

"Well, that's good," Haley said cheerily. "I haven't seen them in what seems like ages." A beat passed. "Oh, you know what? I just thought of something: why don't we invite them over for lunch this Saturday? Give all of you hard workers a chance to unwind. I'm sure we could find some ball game on TV for Dave and Derek. It would be like a little family get-together."

Even before Haley's last words fell from her lips, Hotch knew they were coming – and they made him beyond uncomfortable. It was stifling; the woman was the epitome of parasitic.

"And plus, I'd finally be able to meet Emily."

It was at that that Hotch rolled out of bed, scrounging around to gather together however many articles of clothing he could find. "Yeah," he said absentmindedly, after what he was sure was too long a pause. "I didn't even think about that. That sounds…_great_, Haley."

Hotch didn't need to look back at her to hear the smile in her voice. "I'm glad you approve, Aaron."

"Of course." Finally fully clothed, Hotch made his way into the master bathroom, locking himself inside the space and staring unforgivingly at his reflection. Unbidden, he remembered how it had felt when he had loved Haley – because he had, at one point. While no woman had ever been able to compare to the flighty, gorgeous, seductive spirit that was Emily Prentiss, Hotch doubted he had thought of Haley as a replacement. How could he have done so, when they were so different? Like the sun and the moon.

Haley had brought him happiness; she had blessed him with a son. But she had never been able to _understand_. She had wanted a different version of the man he had worked so steadfastly to become. Emily had challenged him to be himself. She had let him drift freely. She had let him live.

Yet he had let both women go.

He couldn't describe how Emily made him feel. _Ambivalent_ was the only adjective that came somewhat close. As for Haley? He didn't love her. Not anymore. Yet he had allowed himself to be with Haley in a way he had sworn he never would again; they were no longer lovers, after all.

He was starting to wonder if they ever had been.

His chest was wracked with pain. Had it been so bad, so cruel, so _wrong_ that he had been thinking of Emily while with Haley? That he had called out the wrong woman's name? Or was she the _right_ woman…Hotch could never decide.

He was in a living hell. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel. Hotch desperately wanted things to soften up between himself and Emily; he felt as if they were headed in that way. He knew he was being frustrating…but he wasn't the only one in that respect. Just the thought made his blood boil, at himself, at Haley, at Emily. At himself for being a damned passive fool, yet for seeing the light behind his ex-wife's words. For seeing the light in Jack, sweet Jack. He was frustrated at Haley for causing his happiness to crumple to the ground, for being so dastardly right about their son…or at least, he thought she was.

Ultimately, he was so very frustrated with Emily. Emily, who was far from the perfect woman, but whose flaws and quirks he had never fallen out of love with. Emily, who so easily took the brunt of every twisted situation they fell into. Emily, to whom it was so hard to deny his attraction. He wanted so badly to not be that guy…but she made it – everything – so damned difficult. Their shared past was never far from his thoughts. He missed that…he missed them.

He missed her. But he was just _so confused. _It was as if nothing could change the state of mind he was in. Being with Emily, confined by their jobs, had made him reckless and a fool. On the other hand, being with Haley made him confused and a cad. His only saving grace amidst it all?

Jack. Jack, once again.

Being with the young boy made Hotch feel proud, worthy, truly happy, and grounded. His precious son meant the world to him…yet at so great a sacrifice. Briefly, he wondered if his relationship with Emily would ever be repaired; or if he had ruined things for good. He wanted to say he was certain it was the former, but even he would readily admit that his actions had been some that Emily did not deserve. He no longer knew how to think.

The only thing he knew was that the prospect of coming over to meet Haley – the ex-wife, the _other woman _– was not going to thrill the sweet brunette.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Short chapter, I know, and I'm sorry. On the upside, this means I'll be able to squeeze in one more update this Thanksgiving break, which will hopefully get me back into the frequent writing and posting groove. Thank you so much for your constant support. These past few months have prompted me to pause and reflect on the things that I am truly thankful for, and you all are definitely ranked high on that list. I sincerely hope each of you had a great Thanksgiving with your loved ones! If I could ask for one more minute of your time, it would mean so much to me if you could leave a review - no matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they never fail to make my day and give me inspiration better than I could have ever imagined. Much love!<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Also, the final ballot for the Profiler's Choice Awards has been posted on the Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Thank you so much to everyone - all of you - who nominated Kiss The Cook for the Best HotchEmily category! I'm really honored. If I could ask for just one more minute of your time: it would mean the world to me if you'd head over to the link posted below (remove all spaces) to cast your vote.**

****www. fan fiction.****

**net/topic/74868/**73609377/1/#73609533****

**Final voting ends November 30th - one week from today! As always, thank you so much for your dedication!_  
><em>**


	40. Guess How Much I Love You

**Author's Note: Don't give up on me just yet, guys. I consider this installment to be a real step forward, for both Hotch and Emily; and I couldn't have written so much of it without your insightful feedback from the last two chapters. So, as always, thank you! For your support, dedication, and patience. Y'all are the best.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"She wants to <em>what?"<em>

Hotch sighed. He had known it was coming when he had explained it to the team; the team, who had made it subtly but abundantly clear that elaboration was needed as to why he was back with his ex-wife. Explaining had been excruciating; especially because Emily had been seated across from him the entire time, peering at him with cloudy, contemplative eyes.

_"It all happened after Jack broke his arm. Haley and I came to the decision that it was wrong that I am hardly ever around my own son. I obviously cannot stick to a strict custody agreement schedule because of the job. There's no changing that, and I don't think I'll ever want to. We're not back together in that sense - but we are trying to work out a solution so that I'll be around more often. For the meantime, as Jack's arm heals, I've moved back into our old house so that I can see him every morning and night that we're in Quantico. I don't think it's practical or likely that we'll mend fences permanently, but after all, we're certainly not doing this for us. We're doing this – or, at least, I'm doing this _– _for Jack."_

And then he had dropped the bomb; Haley was inviting them over for lunch in two days time.

He felt Emily stiffen.

Which is why the two of them were here now, alone in his office, with the world knocking just outside the door. Whatever sense of momentary peace or self-realization Hotch had gathered from his small roundtable speech was gone in an instant. Again, he sighed. "You're invited, Prentiss. Haley wants to meet you." He cringed. Okay, so he could have left that part unsaid.

"She wants to meet me," Emily echoed heavily, eyes narrowed in suspicion. _Maybe even rub it in a little bit harder? That she got the man? That she won and I lost? Bullshit. _"Am I supposed to feel special?" She hadn't meant to sound so crass; but her conscience had always had a mind of its own. Her expression softened but a frown still stretched her full, kissable lips. "Aaron…think this through," she said simply.

"Then don't come over for her or…for me." _Though I'd love to see you._ "If you're free, come over for Jack, Emily. He's been wondering non-stop when…when Miss Emmy will come over and sign his cast."

Her heart wrenched; her demeanor remained blank, emotionless. "Using your son to make me feel guilty, Hotchner? Really?"

Hotch's jaw ticked. "I'm not going to _beg_, Prentiss."

"And I'm not going to ask you to." So this is what their relationship had come to. Running her fingers through her sweet-smelling hair, Emily shook her head and put a hand on the nearby doorknob. "I don't know, Hotch," she said flatly. "I'll think about it."

In complete contrast to his earlier statement, Hotch replied, "Please do. I know Jack would love to see you."

Emily's resulting laugh was quiet and self-deprecating. The words escaped her before she even had a chance to think. "And his father? What about him?"

She had disappeared long before Hotch could answer.

~.~.~

"You looked like you could've used a drink – or ten – earlier today."

Emily breezed out a laugh and then a quiet _thank you_ as she accepted Dave's proffered glass of scotch and settled deep into his comfortable, dark brown couch. "That obvious, huh?"

"Only if you knew what to look for." Even though his comment struck her as odd for but a moment, Emily said nothing. Rather, she simply closed her eyes and let the warm amber liquid soothe her soul. It wasn't the first time Rossi had let her into his home; it wasn't even the second, and she knew it wouldn't be the last. She didn't know how to voice her appreciation. She wasn't even sure if she could.

"Are you going to…_his_ house on Saturday?" Emily asked, after a long enough silence on her part. The scotch tasted heavy on her tongue, but she loved it. She needed it.

Dave watched her curiously. "I am. And you?"

She stared into her glass. "Of course I am," she said quietly. "There's something about Jack Hotchner that just makes you _happy_, you know? And Aaron..." Emily laughed a little. "What's the point in ignoring him? We see each other every day. We're more than capable of being professional," she said, though her voice cracked on the last word. Were they? They both knew that having sex was not the answer to any problem. Yet they had gone and done just that. _Why?_

Emily shuddered out a sigh. "The thing is, I just don't know how I'll react around Haley. How am I supposed to, when I know she's being absolutely manipulative with her machinations – because that's what this is. Though it's not entirely her fault, I suppose." She was full on ranting now. "He's _pathetic. _What, he can lead a unit of the FBI but he can't man up and decide for himself? I don't get it, Dave. I just...I don't fucking get it."

Dave was silent; he knew Emily wasn't finished. And he was right. "You know," she continued, "sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I found another job." Her voice was hauntingly quiet. "The BAU has been my dream for so long," she said, shaking her head, "but not like this."

Rossi leaned in closer to her. "Have faith," he urged with a patience she envied. "You'll work your way out of this mess; you both will. I just know it."

"But will it be worth it?" The moment the words came from her lips, she was brought back to a better place. She was in a park, surrounded by seemingly thousands of tiny, star-like lights. The fragrance of magnolia blossoms was in the air, the taste of grapefruit gelato on her tongue. And she was being kissed, and everything was perfect again.

The scene changed. She remembered heartbreak; she remembered how crushing it had felt to leave him at the gate as she embarked on a journey toward a new life in Connecticut. She remembered how hot her tears had been against her cheeks, how desperately he had held onto her until the very last minute.

She remembered how bereft, how _wrong _she had felt without him. And in that moment, she knew the fight would be worth it.

It just...didn't seem that way now. _Independence, my ass, _Emily hiccupped. "I take stock of my condition almost every day. And you know what I realize? I still have feelings for the asshole. And the moment I realize that, I feel like I have no self-respect whatsoever. I've never let anyone walk over me; so why is this so different? Why does my anger seem more like a defense mechanism than an actual emotional response?" Exhausted, she downed the rest of the aged scotch in a heartbeat. "I wish...I wish he would just _open his eyes._"

"Emily, believe me, if I could make him, if I could show him...if he would listen to me, I would tell him. I would explain everything to him. But I can't –"

"Dave, you don't need to. As is, you've done so much." Her smile was wan but grateful. "It's beyond strange that I'm telling you all this; I know you're his best friend. And I know, above all, that he's a good man. He's just..."

"Misguided?"

Again, Emily laughed, though it was a sadder sound this time. "He's just _stupid._"

"Don't I know it." He gave her hand a kind squeeze then took her glass to be refilled. "Now you listen to me. I don't want you thinking about this anymore tonight. It's late; if you don't want to drive out to your brownstone, you are more than welcome to crash in one of the guest rooms –"

"Dave, I couldn't –"

"You need rest, Emily. We all do. That last case was...was something." The wound on her temple throbbed as if in morbid agreement. "So here's what we'll do: after the get-together on Saturday, you and I can grab dinner – because I have the feeling you're going to want to blow off some steam, and ranting is always the way to go. You'll get some wine in you, you'll forget about the afternoon, and sleep will come easily. And, for a while at least, all will be well."

Her vision blurred. "I don't think I could thank you enough if I tried." If Rossi's proposition seemed even remotely like a date to Emily, she didn't mention it, nor did she spare it much thought. Dave was Dave; Dave was a friend. And at the moment, that was all she really needed.

~.~.~

He was dreaming. It was a fact he was sure of; how else would Emily be lying at his side, when he had gone to sleep alone? Alone...part of him couldn't even stomach the sight of Haley anymore. Not after that night. Hotch remembered chafing and rubbing his skin raw under the scalding hot shower spray. He had felt sick; he didn't know how he had let himself perform an action so...uncharacteristic.

The word struck a chord within him. He wasn't being himself. He felt diseased, weary. He felt like a common whore, and it hurt, because he knew he was hurting someone else. He hadn't meant for things to progress this far. Hell, he hadn't meant to get into this mess in the first place.

All this Hotch thought, yet he was still dreaming. Of Emily, no less. In this fantasy world they had fallen into, she was asleep beside him, but her lashes fluttered every once and a while, if he gazed at her for long enough. Her lips parted, too, those lips he remembered kissing as he worshipped her body to no end. It sparked a pang of white-hot regret to course through his veins. That was how it was supposed to be still. He was supposed to have fought for her and for their happily ever after. He was supposed to have been a _man_.

And Haley? Who was Haley to him anymore? He no longer cared, and he was starting to think he never had. So why had he simply lain down and let her make decisions for him? He had let himself push Emily aside. He wondered at the fact that Emily hadn't thrown her hands up in bitter, disgusted defeat and forgotten all about him.

But then again, she had always been strong. It was one of her many admirable characteristics he adored still. She had always been strong. Yet he couldn't say the same for himself.

_What a clear dream_, Hotch mused to himself, trying only half-heartedly to shake away the self-deprecating thoughts as he watched all the while. _So vivid...so telling._

_So ultimately necessary._

As if on cue, Emily shifted in the bed, her arms wrapping loosely around his middle as she sighed against his chest. It wasn't the frustrated, grim sigh he was used to hearing as of late; rather, it was one that tugged on strings of memory in his mind and heart. In his dream, Hotch realized, Emily was content. She murmured again, a name this time.

But the name wasn't his. It wasn't Aaron.

Seaton pain tore through his chest as he realized who was making his Emily – albeit, his _dream _Emily – so satisfied. She whispered it again.

_"Sean."_

It hurt. It hurt so damned much and Hotch knew it wasn't simply because she was dreaming of his brother. She could have uttered anyone else's name and it would have crippled him just as badly. The hole in his chest suddenly became more profound, and finally, dear God _finally,_ he asked himself why.

He knew the answer at once, and the ease with which the thought came to him only served to increase his self-hatred. Hotch had know it all along; he still cared for the beautiful brunette, though his actions did an exemplary job of communicating the opposite. He couldn't think of more vicious words to hurl at himself at the moment. He had been such a _fool! _And Haley...

Even in sleep, his fists clenched. But he didn't let the resentment overtake him. Instead, he did the only thing he could think to do to silence Emily's quiet murmuring if his younger brother's name.

He pressed his lips to hers in a gentle embrace.

And immediately, he awoke.

~.~.~

Whenever he was in his son's bedroom, Hotch felt like a new man. Something about the glow-in-the-dark stars littering the ceiling, the collection of plush dinosaurs at the foot of the bed, the well-loved books on the nightstand...it made him happy. For a moment, Hotch was allowed to imagine that everything was normal. _Perfect_. A soft smile touched his lips as a little blonde-haired blob dashed past him and leapt back into bed, a gap-toothed grin plastered on his sweet face.

"You can finish the story now, Daddy."

"I have your permission?" Hotch gathered Jack into his arms and pressed a kiss into his downy hair. He laughed when the boy nodded energetically; despite the enthusiasm, he could see sleep tugging at his eyes. He had been certain Jack had been asleep...before the young boy had exclaimed that he needed to use the restroom.

"Alright, let's see. Where were we?" Hotch thumbed through the storybook.

"I love you 'cross the river and over the hills," Jack recited groggily.

"What a coincidence: I love you that much too, Jack rabbit."

"No, that's where you stopped, Daddy!" He giggled, then burrowed deep into his police car decorated bed sheets.

"I know, I know. Still love you, though," Hotch said gently, before starting where he left off.

_"'I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river,' cried Little Nutbrown Hare. 'I love you across the river and over the hills,' said Big Nutbrown Hare. That's very far, thought Little Nutbrown Hare. He was almost too sleepy to think any more. Then he looked beyond the thorn bushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be further than the sky. 'I love you right up to the moon,' he said, and closed his eyes."_

Slowly, lovingly, Hotch ran a hand through Jack's soft hair, soothing him to sleep. As he read the last lines in the book, his voice dropped to a low and endearing pitch. _"'Oh, that's far,' said Big Nutbrown Hare. 'That is very, very far.' Big Nutbrown Hare settled Little Nutbrown Hare into his bed of leaves. He leaned over and kissed him good night. Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, "I love you right up to the moon - and back."_

Jack's eyes were shut, yet the boy still spoke, a content smile on his chubby face. "One more story, Daddy. Please?"

Hotch let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "I think two stories is enough for one night, don't you, buddy? Besides, it's way past your bedtime."

Just as he expected, he met no protest. "Okay," Jack yawned. He allowed his father to tuck him in snugly before murmuring his last question of the night – one that effectively caught him off guard in a way he didn't like one bit. "Daddy, are you and Mommy gonna get married?"

An awkward sudden cough was the only response he could muster for a good minute. How was he supposed to explain an arrangement that he didn't understand himself? To the most astute of four year olds, no less. "No, buddy, we're not planning to." _Nor do I want to._

"Oh. 'Cause you don't go to your 'part...'part..."

"Apartment?"

"Yeah. You don't go there anymore." Jack smiled with the innocence only a child could have. "I like it." Once again, he let out a little roar of a yawn.

Hotch's heart panged. "You like it, huh? You like having me around the house more often?" An instantaneous one-armed hug was all the answer he needed. "Well, I _love_ seeing you everyday, Jack rabbit. I love it. I love _you_."

"Love you, too, Daddy," Jack grinned.

"Now go to bed," he said mock-sternly, earning himself a happy little giggle. "We have a long day tomorrow. Remember what Mommy said? Daddy's friends are coming over for lunch. Almost like a belated birthday party for you. So you get two parties, how about that?"

"Is Uncle Dave gonna be there?" A beat passed. "And Emmy?"

Slowly, Hotch rose from the boy's small bed. "Uncle Dave wouldn't miss it for the world. As for Emily...I'm sure she'll come over. I just know she will."

"I like her, Daddy," Jack murmured, his last words before succumbing to sweet sleep.

"Yeah..." Hotch turned out the lights, the overhead star stickers providing a perfect glow. He realized then with sudden blinding clarity just how misguided he had been. How wrong. "I like her, too, buddy," he said into the dusky night. _I like her, too._

~.~.~

It wasn't the fact that Emily actually did show up to Haley's lunch that had Hotch surprised. No, it was the fact that she had carpooled with Rossi; Rossi, whose hand was currently resting comfortably on the small of her back as he ushered her to the door. A thousand questions sprung to Hotch's mind, none of them good. It took a good long moment before Hotch was able to snap out of his momentarily shocked state and step aside to let them into the house. "Hey," he greeted, not before clearing his throat. "It's good to see you two." He said the words while casually hugging Rossi...and then Emily.

To her credit, the svelte brunette didn't stiffen in his arms. Rather, she simply returned the embrace as if it was something completely commonplace. As it was their...normal. And once, it had been.

Their expressions were similarly unreadable after they pulled away to see Rossi had already left them alone – much to Hotch's delight. He didn't even know why he was feeling this way; he just knew Emily would forever be his weakness. She knew it, too. After all, he didn't exactly try to hide it.

"You look beautiful." And she did. Shiny, silky hair pulled back into a high ponytail; a combination of an evergreen cable-knit sweater, black jeans, and glossy black leather boots that made her legs – her everything – _fantastic_. A true smile was the only thing missing, though she did spare him a small quirk of her lips.

"Well, thank you." Slowly, she began to unzip and step out of her boots, knowing the entire time that his attention was still unwaveringly focused on her. She could practically feel the intensity of his gaze. "Is everyone else here?"

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah, the only one we're missing is Reid, but he –"

"Aaron? Oh, there you are." Haley strode into the main room with purpose, then slowed almost imperceptibly as she realized exactly who her ex-husband was talking to. It took only a heartbeat for her to school her expression in just the _right_ way. "You must be Emily," she said cheerily, and Hotch could only watch as Emily drew herself up to her full height and extended her hand. "I've heard...so many things about you."

"Haley," Emily acknowledged, her ensuing smile listless – but not obviously so. She was the better woman here, and she was going to make damn sure Hotch knew it. "I could certainly say the same," she responded pleasantly, catching the blonde off-guard. "It's...good to finally meet you."

"Of course." Haley took a single step closer to Hotch, and it didn't escape the attention of either party. "How are you feeling, by the way? I heard about your injury," Haley said, her eyes on the stitches marring the skin of Emily's forehead. "It was on the front page of the newspaper, was it not?"

That made Emily smile – or rather, smirk. "Yeah, I made sure to keep a copy of that issue." She could have laughed at the flash of _something_ she saw behind Haley's eyes. "But, you know, I'm no stranger to pain. A little scrape here and there is nothing I can't handle." _There are some things, however, that don't go away with time_. She thought of Boston, Ireland, purple flowers; the memories made her want to shrink away. "Thank you for asking, though."

"It's no problem. In fact, I was going to say –"

But she was interrupted by a sudden high-pitched shriek of _"Emmy!"_ as a four-year-old blur came toddling over in an outright jubilant rush. Emily's visage changed immediately. Within a second, she had knelt to the little boy's height and was instantly accepting his sweet little hug. "Well, hi there, Jack Jack," she crooned, her smile genuine for the first time that afternoon. "How are you? Oh my God, you're_ four_ now, aren't you? Already all grown up," she praised, and Jack loved it.

"I'm a big boy now, Emmy!" he exclaimed, and Hotch found it impossible to tear his eyes from the perfect scene before him. "But you missed my birthday."

His pout was almost too much for Emily to handle. "I know I did, and I'm really sorry about that. But I got you a present. I left it at my place, but I'll make sure to bring it to work so your daddy can take it home for you."

"A present?" Jack was over the moon. "What'd you get me?"

"Jack," Hotch admonished gently. "What do you say to Miss Emily?" he prompted.

"Oh. Thank you," he grinned sheepishly.

"You are more than welcome. As for your present, we'll leave it as a surprise for later, alright? Now, tell me: did you stuff yourself with lots of cake?"

"Uh huh!" He nodded his head vigorously. "Lots and lots! Chocolate _and_ vanilla!" Emily was making a playfully and indulgently jealous sound when Jack finally remembered what he'd been meaning to ask. "Emmy, d'you 'member the picture I drew for you? D'you like it?"

Beside Hotch, Haley turned and shot an inquisitive glance in his direction, but she garnered no response. None from Hotch, that is. "Oh, Jack. I absolutely _love_ it, sweetheart. It's the only thing on my refrigerator back at home and it makes me smile every single morning."

His shining hazel eyes went wide. "Really?"

"You bet, kiddo." Finally, Emily rose to her feet and gave both parents a half-smile. "Anyway," she said, with an affectionate squeeze of Jack's shoulder right before he dashed back to a waiting JJ. "Where were we?"

Haley didn't take too kindly to being outshone; but the fact of the matter was, there wasn't much she could do about it. She settled with a subtle crossing of her arms over her chest. "I was actually about to serve lunch, though it'll still be a while until all the food is ready." She wanted nothing to do with them any longer. "Aaron, why don't you...show Emily around? Or show her to the den, where everyone else is," she suggested coolly. Playing the role of the cheerful hostess was clearly not Haley's forte, and like her son, she disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Once again left alone with Emily, Hotch glanced over to her and tried for a playful smile – though his attempt fell flat. It had been too long since they had been at ease with one another, and he was beginning to realize that the rift that had come between them was going to take a hell of a lot more repairing than he had ever imagined. Still, he motioned vaguely in the direction of the hallway, holding her gaze with his. Showing Emily around was one order of Haley's he was fine with agreeing to. "Well…do you want a tour?"

_God, he has gorgeous eyes, _Emily thought, before forcing herself to look away. "Actually, I was hoping you'd be able to tell me where the restroom is," she said. It wasn't completely a lie; she just wanted another minute or two away from everyone else before she would be expected to socialize. Yet somehow, as Hotch continued watching her, she got the sinking feeling that he could see right through her; that he was reading her like the open book she was to him and only him. The thought made her bow her head in almost shame.

"Of course." This time, it was his hand that fell to the small of her back, not Dave's. And she didn't object. In the span of only two nights, something had changed between them. Neither knew just what that something was, however, or how magnanimously it would affect them. "Follow me, Emily."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: And the pace will pick up from here. The most notable of the upcoming events is the fundraising gala, of course. Y'all can expect a lot of drama stemming from that night, though I can assure you not all of it will be bad. If I stick to my outline (which almost never happens), I can say we have about eight to ten more chapters remaining. I'm still contemplating the idea of an epilogue; but I can say with all my heart that the plot line is always subject to change for the better, thanks to your continuous and insightful feedback. I could not be more grateful, and I say that with all the sincerity I can muster. So, if you have a moment to spare, please let me know what you think! And please...have faith that I will give the characters the happy ending they deserve. In due time, of course. In due time.<strong>

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><p><strong>In other news, the final ballot for the Profiler's Choice Awards has been posted on the Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. Thank you so much to everyone - all of you - who nominated Kiss The Cook for the Best HotchEmily category! I'm really honored. If I could ask for just one more minute of your time: it would mean the world to me if you'd head over to the link posted below (remove all spaces) to cast your vote.**

****www. fan fiction.****

**net/topic/74868/**73609377/1/#73609533****

**Final voting ends November 30th - only four more days! As always, thank you so much for your dedication!**


	41. Smoke From a Distant Fire

**Author's Note: I'm admittedly a little bit surprised I was able to squeeze out an update this week. Thanksgiving break has been over for only a handful of days, yet my schedule is already packed. That can't stop my muse from throwing endless ideas at me, though, a fact for which I'm very glad - and I hope you all will be, too, after reading this chapter! We're making...some progress. It's a slow process, as would be expected. But we'll get there eventually, and I know I couldn't do it without your amazing support. So thank you! **

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>Hotch lead her to the guest bathroom upstairs, wondering with every step what he should say. Twenty-three steps…instead of thinking, he counted to pass the time. Anything to distract him from the woman at his side, from the conversation that needed to – and certainly would – happen.<p>

Emily took his head without a word, barely a half a step behind him as they rounded the corner and passed a rather homey room she guessed was his office. She could practically hear him thinking; she knew from first-hand – and often, physical – experience that he had always been thorough in everything he did, brooding inclusive. Finally, when Emily was sure she could find her way on her own, she felt rather than saw Hotch stop. Her heart thudded expectantly but her conscience sang another tune. _Walk away_, she urged willfully. _Walk away._

Needless to say, he didn't. He was rooted to the carpeted floor beneath their feet; and dear God, he was speaking to her. _"Emily._" Just the sound of her given name falling from Hotch's lips was enough for her to want to push him away. It wasn't right that he wasn't allowed to be doing these things to her; his presence was having so great an effect on her. But it was. She was…weakened. "Emily, look at me, please."

His voice slayed her. She knew what he wanted to express to her; she also knew that it was much too soon. Emily supposed she would let him talk, at least for a little bit. After all, she had yet to say hello to the others and she really didn't want anyone getting suspicious.

Plus, she still hated the bastard.

Yet she compiled and met his gaze anyway, trying with all her might to ignore how thick the tension between them had become. For but a second, Emily had felt as if it was waning…but the situation they were in had done a good job of making her into a fool, and she chalked her naïve supposition up to just that. "Yes?"

The moment her voice met his ears, words suddenly failed him. He gaped at her for a second before sputtering, "Are you really feeling okay?" It wasn't what he had initially intended to ask…but now that the question was between them, he did want to know the answer.

Emily leaned against the sparsely decorated wall; the wall that had the telltale crayoned markings of a growing little boy. "I'm fine, I promise. Most times, with the painkillers, it's possible for me to forget all about the stitches. It's not going to be fun when I have to get them taken out, but then again, it never is."

"And your concussion?"

"Bearable." She shifted her weight from one foot to another. "Listen, Hotch –"

"I need to ask you something." The statement is so sudden that it catches them both off-guard. Hotch can see it in her eyes; he has her undivided attention now. But he almost doesn't know how to continue.

Regardless, he stumbles through it. "A couple days ago, the night we flew back home from Milwaukee…" Hotch shook his head. _She must think I've lost my mind. _"The painkillers you took, did they knock you out? Did you sleep well on the jet? Or…did you hear me talking to you? Please, Emily. Be honest with me." He absolutely hated the desperation he heard in his voice, but he _needed_ to know.

It took more effort than she was willing to admit, but Emily managed to keep her expression curiously blank. His question only served to set her heart beating quicker. She remembered every single word of his night apology. But how was she supposed to acknowledge that when doing so would be telling him that she had been feigning sleep to avoid confronting him? Never having felt this stuck in her life, Emily knew there was only one thing she could do. She played the part to a T.

"Talking to me?" Emily echoed, feigning confusion. "Hotch…I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about," she lied – right to his face, and _God_, it hurt. But he had hurt her, too. It was a crazy game they were playing. "I must have fallen asleep. You know how painkillers can be," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh." Hotch dropped his gaze, the handsome, defined lines of his face hardening back into the mask Emily had grown accustomed to in the past month. He felt it in his heart; he knew she was lying. And he so wanted to reach forward, grab her shoulders, and shake her until she caved, until she confessed.

But he didn't. He knew it wouldn't be fair. From somewhere downstairs, both Hotch and Emily heard one of their friends calling out in search of _"Prentiss? Where is Prentiss?"_ but they ignored the sound for the time being. If Hotch was disheartened, and he was, he didn't make it obvious. "Then there's something I need to tell you," he said, playing along with her little charade in the meantime. "Emily, I know nothing I can say could possibly even begin to make up for the undeserving mess I have dragged you into, but…I'm sorry. " Even to his own ears, the apology sounded flat, and he hated it. "For my actions on the flight to Milwaukee, for _everything_, I really am s –"

A hand on his arm effectively and unceremoniously cut him off mid-sentence. Hotch was outright shocked when he saw the wry little quirk of her lips. "Hotch," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I don't know what has gotten into you, nor do I really want to try to find out. But we both have a hell of a lot of soul searching to do, and if you think you've already done that…well, I can tell you you're wrong." She cocked her head in the direction of the stairs. "Morgan's going to come looking for me any second now. We don't want anyone getting _suspicious_, do we?" Hotch knew a dismissal when he heard one. "So let's not talk about this today, alright? Besides, I'm looking forward to a nice afternoon with your ex-wife."

Emily wanted to feel bad when she saw the floored expression on his face, but she knew he hadn't gotten the reality check he so desperately needed yet, and she wasn't about to come crawling back to him on her hands and knees, ready to accept him back with open arms at the drop of a hat. No, karma was a bitch, and that was something Aaron Hotchner needed to learn.

Emily really didn't mean to come across as so vengeful, but a part of her knew he was going to have to pay. So she pushed away her previous naïve and wistful thoughts of affection and forgiveness and maybe even love, for just a moment, and instead, she faced him with a visage similar to the one he was wearing now: lost, conflicted, and ultimately blank, with war-torn eyes.

She would surely revisit those thoughts another time; but it would just be that, another time.

She left him then, turning her back to him and sashaying away. Emily knew he was still standing there, numbly staring at her as she made the rest of the way to the guest bathroom on her own. A little voice at the back of her conscience niggled a thought loose; she could tell something was different with Hotch, and it intrigued her. It gave her an ounce of hope.

But it simply wasn't time. Emily wasn't ready for a half-hearted apology, and frankly…she didn't think Hotch was either. They would just have to continue onward with the twisted game they called life.

~.~.~

Hotch didn't look over at Rossi as the man came ambling over to his side. He just couldn't tear his gaze from the scene before him; it was developing into a full-blown problem, but he didn't care.

Her beautiful voice once again met his ears as she capped her Sharpie and gave Jack a bright smile as he looked down at his blue cast, covered in multiple people's handwriting. "There you go," Hotch heard her say to his son. "See, Jack? I signed my name nice and big for you. _Emily_. And I drew a pretty heart by it, too."

Jack giggled a little, then looked up at her with those great big eyes that had made her so smitten in the first place. "Thank you, Emmy."

"You are so welcome. Your arm doesn't hurt anymore, does it? And your head?" Neither Hotch nor Rossi failed to notice the care with which she asked the question.

Jack instantly answered with a quick shaking of his head. "Nope. I'm almost all better!" It was then that the young boy noticed something – something on Emily's forehead that, as far as he knew, hadn't ever been there before. He tugged on her sleeve so that she would once again kneel to his height, and then he tentatively reached forward to touch the stitched skin. "What happened?"

Her smile morphed to something sweeter to soothe his innocent worrying. "Nothing too terrible. It's just a little boo-boo. I was at work and a bad guy tried to hurt me. But guess who swooped in to save the day?" Aware that the two men were watching their little exchange, Emily cocked her head in their direction. "Your daddy did. 'Cause your daddy's a superhero."

They shared a conspiratorial smile. "I already knew that!" Jack exclaimed. "Daddy's like Spiderman and Superman. But Daddy's cooler." Jack's admiration for his father was evident, and it made Emily's heart swell. The boy was too adorable for her to handle.

"You know, Jack, I think I would just have to agree with you on that one." She rose to her feet, then playfully nudged him in the direction they had just been looking. "Speaking of your daddy, why don't you run over to him and your Uncle Dave to say hi? I bet they'd love to talk to you."

"Okay!"

And just like that, he was off like a rocket and had joined them; but not before Emily was able to hear Rossi say, _"She's really good with Jack. Not just now…but earlier, too, when she and I had just come over. That's a special bond she and Jack have got there. And after what? Only two visits?"_

Emily barely paused long enough to see Hotch's reaction before she disappeared from the room, slipping outside for some much needed fresh air.

~.~.~

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Emily didn't start at his sudden words. No, she had felt his presence the moment he had set foot into the backyard; the hairs at the back of her neck had prickled in warning. It wasn't as if she was surprised that he had gone looking for her. The fact that only ten minutes had passed before he had felt the need to have her in his sights once more didn't faze her. Rather, she simply took another drag of her cigarette and exhaled the smoke into the crisp October air.

"And I thought I'd be able to squeeze put another five minutes of time alone." A wry little smile curved her lips as she leaned against the house's sturdy stone exterior. Finally, she turned to face him, once again unsurprised to find him fixated on the glowing end of the cigarette trapped between her long fingers. Fingers that had once brought him to dizzying heights, just as his had done for her.

His eyes snapped up to hers. "I didn't know you smoke," Hotch said eventually, keeping the distance between them – for now.

That drew from out of Emily a breathy laugh. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Aaron." Her use of his given name escaped neither of them.

"And a lot I'd like to find out." The earnest and intriguing response came from Hotch without even a moment of thought. It was only the truth. Yet he could already hear Emily's sure-to-come fiery retort: _What do you think you're doing, skirting back and forth between one woman and the other? You made your decision, so live with it._

But Emily said nothing of the sort. She simply shook her head at his comment. "You're just so…lost, aren't you?"

The rhetorical question hurt more than anything else she could have said. Hotch remained silent, his gaze back on the cigarette. Emily continued. "No, I don't smoke regularly. It's not a habit, nor is it an addiction. I just need it sometimes, you know? When I'm under a lot of stress, or…" She paused briefly, making him look at her curiously, "or when I need a release."

The air surrounding them became charged in an instant, charged with a different kind of tension altogether. It was as if just a single spark would pull them into the flames. Yet Emily only smiled and extended her hand. "Want a drag?"

Hotch said nothing as he closed the distance between them, taking the proffered stick from her hand and letting the smoke wash over his throat before exhaling slowly. It had been a long time since he had last smoked; taking the drag brought back a number of memories, not all of them comfortable. There was just something so sultry about watching Emily engaging in the act. They fell into a silence that remained even after she snuffed the cigarette out, a silence that wasn't unnerving as much as it was expectant.

When Hotch finally broke the silence, it was with an almost growl that seeped beneath Emily's skin and made her yearn for something so utterly unattainable. "I suppose I should leave you to yourself. You wanted time alone, after all, and I don't want to disturb that for you." He made his way to the door, then paused for a moment, without looking at her. "Come back inside soon, okay?"

Emily, too, resorted to staring off into the distance. "I'll think about it," she said after a beat.

"That's good enough for me."

~.~.~

He hadn't been back inside the house for more than half a minute before almost running smack into Dave. The Italian blinked in surprise for a split second before instantly becoming animated. "Was Emily out there? I was about to look for her; I wanted to speak to her."

For a good moment, Hotch stiffened, unable to react. "Yeah," he managed. "She's about there getting a breath of fresh air. Dave, can we talk for a second?"

Rossi's eyes flashed with something that looked almost like amusement for but a moment before he agreed, allowing his younger friend to lead him into another room – where they were isolated from everyone else. "Yes, Aaron?"

Hotch swallowed thickly. There was a reason why ignorance is bliss, and he was living it day after day. He didn't want to have to ask the question…but he needed to know the answer.

"Is there something going on between you and Emily?"

Rossi, having been a seasoned profiler for much too long, had long since mastered the art of revealing nothing through his facial expression. Besides, he had been waiting for the question; he was genuinely surprised Hotch had lasted this long. "Well, no. Not really. She's just needed a friend lately, one she can rant to without feeling she'll let too much slip – like she would with the girls. She and I were going to grab dinner after this; I wanted to ask her if we're still on."

"Dinner," Hotch echoed numbly. His mouth suddenly tasted like cotton.

"Yeah, we've had dinner a couple times," Dave said, feigning oblivion at the way Hotch began to look more and more deflated as seconds ticked past. "She's a fascinating woman, with a real understanding of Italian cuisine –"

"She's _cooked_ for you?" Hotch barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor. That was supposed to have been _their _thing! In a flash, he remembered cooking with her for the last time before she stepped on the plane to Connecticut; he remembered taking her right against the kitchen counter. The way that she had screamed would be forever ingrained in his mind.

Rossi looked at him curiously. "She helped me make spaghetti once," he amended. "But anyway. She needs distractions, you see. So I was thinking of maybe taking her somewhere special tonight, after dinner. Maybe a…drive-in movie?"

Hotch felt his heart stop. He was no longer angry or put-off; now, he felt absolutely ruined. "Dave…" His voice broke. "You know I – we were going to – I wanted to take her – you can't –"

He stopped pathetically, remembering.

_"I've been thinking about that special place you said you wanted to take me a lot recently," Emily said teasingly. "Won't you give me just one hint?"  
><em>

_Hotch chuckled to himself, imagining her with those beautiful pouting red lips and shining brown eyes. It was quite the vision; she was quite the vision, and always had been. "A hint, huh? You're not being very fun, Emily," he chastised, in that voice of his that made her blood sing with pleasure.  
><em>

_"Yeah, well…neither are you."  
><em>

_His smile grew. "Cars," he said eventually. "It involves cars."  
><em>

_"…cars?" Emily paused in zipping up the back of her dress. "Now I'm even more confused," she laughed.  
><em>

_"Sorry, because that's the only hint you get. For now, at least."_

Hotch looked at Rossi with wounded eyes. "I came to you and I told you what I was planning. And now you're – you're going to –"

Rossi's hand came down on Hotch's shoulder. "You just don't see it, do you, Aaron?" He was answered with a blank stare. "You need a wake-up call."

At once, everything clicked into place. Hotch was repelled. "So you're doing all this _to prove a point_?"

Rossi simply ignored him. "Look at me. Read my lips. Why do you think you so easily got jealous, huh? Don't try to deny it; you're jealous. Why do you think that is?" Hotch opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Rossi sighed. "Because you care about her, Aaron. You still care about her. _That's _why."

Hotch looked at his friend dumbly. "But I already knew that," he admitted quietly, as Rossi made his way to the door.

"Then start acting like it."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: All hail David Rossi! Perhaps the pelting Hotch with stones can stop now - or at least, die down just a little. Though I have no objections to you all hating Haley. I really haven't been trying to make her out as a horrible creature; rather, I've tried to make her at least a little human. Jealousy does ridiculous things to a person, and I think that's evident in her character. But anyway, I'd love to know what you think of the story so far - so if you have a moment to spare, please leave a review! For added incentive, reviewer #910 will get a oneshot written for the prompt of their choice!<strong>

**As always, t**hank you so much for taking the time to read! ****


	42. Red

**Author's Note: Sexual tension, flirting, and more sexual tension. Also some very brief Haley-hating. That's all you need to know about this chapter. (Did I mention sexual tension?)**

**But anyway. Thank you so much for your incredible support. Writing this story has become an action of solace and I am so honored to hear your suggestions and inspirational feedback. Things will only get better from here. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Emily, you absolutely <em>must<em> bring a date to the fundraiser."

Emily tore her gaze from her computer screen to shoot a playful glare at the two women crowding around her. It was nearing the end of the workday. All she wanted to do was head home. But she wasn't going to be able to go home without being interrogated; that much she knew. "We've already talked about this," she reminded, a telltale twinkle in her dark eyes.

"Yes, but you never acted on any of the things we discussed," Garcia retorted, playfully admonishing the brunette. Giddy, she swung her purple-pumped feet back and forth as she perched atop Emily's desk. "I, for one, still think you should call up Logan. What a hunk," she practically swooned.

"He seemed really interested in you, too," JJ reminded, a smile stretching her pretty pink lips. "He made that much abundantly obvious."

That made Emily snort. "Yeah, he seemed really interested – in my body. Remember what I said about not wanting a friends-with-benefits arrangement?"

"Yeah, yeah," Garcia dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I guess you're right."

"He does get major points for being an incredible masseur, I'll give him that," Emily winked, prompting the others to erupt in quiet but free laughter.

A beat passed before something – a memory – clicked in JJ's mind. "Wait a minute, Em, what about your boyfriend?" When Emily gave her a blank look, JJ mustered up a little curious frown and said, "You know, your tall, dark, and handsome mystery man we bought you that red negligée for."

Of course, Hotch chose that very moment to pass them by. Their conversation immediately snagged his attention, and he didn't know which thought to process first. All he could think of was Emily, all dolled up in sheer red lace and fire truck red stilettos, her hair mussed, her skin flushed, her chest heaving – all for and because of him. So engrossed was he in his thinking that he didn't realize he was speaking actual words until Emily's gaze snapped to his. "Oh, you're seeing someone, Prentiss?" His tone and demeanor were casual enough, but his eyes widened – imperceptibly enough that the women didn't notice, but Hotch himself knew he had gone and committed a crime.

He really did need to get a filter.

Emily cocked her head to the side and spared him a coy little smile for but a second, before straightening her expression and sitting up straighter in her office chair. "Not anymore, sir. We broke things off a while back. But it's okay, because it was a mutual agreement – to disagree, I suppose."

Silence. Hotch knew he deserved the retort...but that didn't make it sting any less. He had to give it to her, though; she certainly gave as good as she got.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he managed, his eyes flat as they gazed into hers.

Emily didn't even look away. "Don't be," she said simply, once again with a little unnerving smile. And in a heartbeat, she was back in conversation with the girls, paying him no mind – acting as if their conversation had not even occurred.

"What was all that about?" JJ mouthed to Emily, once Hotch had turned his back. "He got all weird for a minute there."

Emily gave a casual shrug, carelessly brushing the matter away. "I have no idea. Hotch is Hotch. He's been a little more uptight lately. I wonder why. Though I guess it's not easy being the Unit Chief of the BAU," she pointed out.

"I bet it's because of Haley," Garcia said, before she realized the subject she had just broached. "I don't know, she seems pretty..."

"Frigid?" JJ suggested.

"Stifling," Emily countered under her breath.

Garcia nodded discreetly, then clapped her hands together, bringing both of the others back to their previous conversation. "So your mystery man is no longer in the picture and you don't want to call up Logan. Huh. Who else could you go with?"

Emily rolled her eyes indulgently. "Ladies, I'm not even sure if I want to go," she confessed, leaning back in her chair and stretching her tired arms as she logged off of her computer.

"Nonsense," JJ said instantly, shaking her head. "Come on, Em, let's be real. I'm going with Spence and PG is going with Derek." There was a beat as she surveyed the bullpen and a certain Italian caught her eye. "Oh, you could always go with Dave!"

The man in question looked over at them from a distance away, his brows pinching together in curiosity; it was almost never a good thing when you heard three women gossiping and your name just happened to pop up in the conversation. "Huh?"

Emily smirked, biting back her chuckling. "I'd probably have to buy him a hearing aid first," she cracked, as the others let out simultaneous peals of laughter.

Emily was answered with an unamused and thoroughly sarcastic laugh. "You're a funny one, Prentiss," Dave droned, striding toward the elevators with his briefcase and a stack of files in hand. "So very funny."

Emily just shared a conspiratorial glance with JJ and Garcia. "Of course he just happened to hear that part. I don't know why I'm surprised David Rossi has selective hearing." She sighed a little as they heard the faint ding of the elevator coming to a stop and opening a handful of floors downstairs. The rest of the building was nearly quiet. Almost everyone had gone home for the day. She knew the girls were ready to leave as well; after all, who wasn't? But there was just one more thing she had to do. The idea came to her in a flash...and suddenly, she was grinning.

"You know what?" she said. "I know exactly who to invite to the fundraiser. I don't know how I just now thought of him." The questioning she knew was sure to come began the moment she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and began scrolling through her contacts.

"Oh, Emily," JJ said, obviously intrigued as she craned her neck to see just who the brunette was planning on giving a call. "Come on, now. Secrets, secrets, are no fun. What's his name?" she teased.

"God, you two won't give me a break, won't you?" Emily exclaimed good-naturedly. "Just for that, you'll have to wait and see." She brought the phone up to her ear as it began to ring. "Or, I guess – wait and hear."

The call connected on the fourth ring. _"Hello?"_

Emily had to admit, hearing his smoothly accented voice again caused a rush of excitement – and even some nerves – to course through her body. She wasn't nervous to _see_him again; she just knew that connecting with him once more would bring back all sorts of memories, memories she wasn't completely ready to relive.

Memories she wished she hadn't lived through in the first place.

He had made things easier for her, of course, and she loved him for that. He had supported her through every grueling and painful step of the way. And then, they had been forced to separate…because Emily knew, deep in her heart, that Interpol was just not for her. She had wanted the BAU; she had wanted the man who, in her eyes, was the BAU. Strong, unyielding, faithful, intelligent, brave, compassionate…dedicated and fierce both in and out of the field. Aaron Hotchner had been all Emily had ever wanted in a man.

And if she were being honest with herself, Emily knew – he still was.

But she had more pressing matters at hand; she now had another man, another _date_, on her mind.

Emily couldn't suppress the smile that stretched her lips at the sound of her former boss's voice. "Bonjour, Clyde. Ça va?"

She could almost hear a noticeable change in his voice when he realized just who was on the other line. She imagined him lounging about in his posh Interpol office, his face now bright and animated. "Emily! I thought the number looked familiar but I just couldn't place it – probably because we haven't spoken in much too long." His voice retained that light and seductive quality Emily had always been fond of. "How are you, darling? I've heard you're an absolute success at the Bureau. Of course, I've had to rely on outside sources since we haven't spoken since you first got the job –"

Emily indulged him with an interrupting laugh. "I get it, I get it. We haven't talked in months. Will you accept my apology?"

"Maybe." Clyde smirked. "It depends on the reason for your call."

"Well, actually, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to do me a huge favor," she said, in his exact same tone of voice. What harm would a little flirting do? Emily missed feeling so free; she was going to indulge. Besides...Hotch was only a couple steps away. She didn't _really_ want to put him through hell. She just wanted to give him a little taste of his own medicine. After all, she didn't feel too bad; their twisted little game would be over soon enough, she was sure of it. Or at least, Emily hoped it would be.

"A favor, huh? And, uh...what kind of favor might this be, Emily?"

Emily outright scoffed. "I could smack you right now, Clyde Easter. Definitely not the kind of favor you apparently wish I was asking for. Typical man," she teased.

Clyde replied with an indulgent and utterly playful growl. "Oh, I know you could smack me, Emily Prentiss. I know from experience that you can and you would." His eyes twinkled with mirth at her little gasp of amused disbelief.

"Oh, shut up," she hissed, though the threat was not nearly as impactful as she had hoped due to little rumbling laughter that threatened to break past her lips. "Anyway. The Bureau is hosting a fundraising gala in a couple days – next Sunday, actually – and I'm currently still date-less. I was hoping you'd be free and that you'd be my plus one." Emily sweetened the deal with a smile she was sure he would be able to hear in her voice. "S'il vous plaît?"

At this point, both Emily and Clyde knew he had already accepted the invitation. There was no way he was going to say no; Emily had him profiled to a T. He just loved stringing things out, teasing and taunting and playing with his food despite everything his mother had taught him as a child. Emily didn't have to look at JJ or Garcia to know they were beyond intrigued.

Nor did she have to look back at Hotch to know he was beyond jealous. She could just picture it in her mind's eye; intense black eyes staring at the back of her head, his muscles corded and tense as he yearned to claim her as his.

"On one condition, darling," Clyde said through a breezy little laugh, breaking through Emily's sudden reverie. "One single condition. You _must_ wear red."

"Oh, Clyde," Emily said, outright purring his name. "You don't need to tell me twice; I've had my dress picked out for ages. Don't worry, I know you'll like it."

"Then I'll see you Sunday," he promised, his voice more than a little husky. "When would you like me to pick you up, six-thirty? Assuming it starts at seven..."

"Six-thirty sounds perfect. Thank you, Clyde," Emily hummed out delightedly, the sound of her voice effectively driving Hotch insane.

"Anything for you, Emily."

It took Emily a good while to hang up the phone, but she did eventually, smirking openly at the looks on JJ's and Garcia's faces as they gathered their belongings together and stood, preparing to head home as well. "Well, I got myself a date," she said nonchalantly, a sneaky little smile curving the corners of her red mouth.

"No kidding," Garcia said sarcastically, her eyes shining brightly. "Clyde Easter..." She mulled over the name. "Sounds familiar. Isn't he your –"

"– My former boss?" Emily cut in, still smiling. "Yeah, the one and only. It'll be good to see him again. We haven't spoken in a while, as he so kindly felt the need to remind me at least a hundred times." She cocked her head toward the elevators, grabbing her own go-bag and purse in the process. "We ready to get out of here?"

"You bet," JJ said, reaching into her pocket – then frowning. "My phone...hey, Pen, do you know if I left my cell phone in your office – sorry, I mean, the Batcave?"

Garcia let out an actual giggle at the telltale moniker. "You probably did, we were in there for a while." She fished out her keys, then paused. "Wow, it's a good thing you reminded me; I left my favorite coffee mug on my desk. You know, the pale yellow one with the fat orange polka dots? If I left it here overnight, the leftover coffee grounds would leave a stain like nobody's business. I'm not even sure I powered off all of my computers. _That's_ how caught up I was in little miss Emily over here." They shared a grin.

"Want me to wait around for you two?" Emily asked, bags handy as she watched the two blondes head toward the stairs that would lead to the catwalk.

They thought about it for a second, then Garcia shook her head. It was her turn to wear a conspiratorial smile on her face. "No, no, sugar plum. Go ahead and go to your swanky brownstone. You have a longer drive than Jayje and I anyway, and it's already pretty late. Besides," she said dramatically, "Clyde might decide to call you up again tonight. You might want to be alone for that one."

Emily burst out into laughter. "The idea disgusts me," she tossed back, before raising her hand in a wave. "Goodnight, Penelope. Goodnight, JJ."

As she entered the elevator, Emily barely had enough time to realize they were bidding her goodnight in return before she realized – she wasn't alone. No, instead, she was sharing the too-small space with a certain dark-haired man that she knew would never leave her mind.

She swallowed thickly, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. _Oh God. _"Hotch," she greeted cordially, looking everywhere but at his face.

"Emily."

Emily didn't let silence come between them; she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it if she did. Her ensuing smile was civil enough, though a little rough around the edges. "So the gala's this Sunday," she said nonchalantly, care-free. "Are you bringing Haley? I feel like that's something she would enjoy." _Being paraded around on your arm, staking her claim. Yeah, she'd like that alright. It's what she's wanted all along._

"Yeah, I invited her along a couple days ago," Hotch answered, and for the life of her, Emily couldn't tell whether he really sounded as unenthusiastic as she thought he did, or if her mind was simply fooling her. It caught her off-guard for a split second, before he cleared his throat, then finally met her gaze. "You? Are you going with anyone?"

_So you're going to play it off as if you weren't witness to my entire phone conversation. I see._ She gave an elegant shrug. "I invited my friend Clyde."

"Oh, that's nice." A beat passed, and the elevator creaked. "You wouldn't happen to be referring to Clyde...Easter, would you? As in, your former boss?"

Emily was damn good at what she did; so it was without even a moment's hesitation that she picked up on the tinge of jealousy, of almost disapproval. She knew that he knew he had no right to feel that way anymore; but she also knew he was the epitome of an alpha male. She loved his tendencies...but at the same time, she had a couple of her own to share.

She had one more.

"The one and only," Emily responded fluidly. The elevator dinged, marking their arrival to the ground floor.

"What can I say, Aaron? I guess my thing for male authority figures didn't start with you."

It was a little white lie, but Hotch didn't know it; he stopped in his tracks, watching her as she stepped out of the elevator with confidence and her telltale beauty. It was all he could do to not fall to his knees and beg for her back when she turned to toss him a wink and a fleeting smile. "Good night, Aaron."

And with a breathy little laugh, she was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Well? What do you think? If you have a couple seconds to spare, I would love to hear from you!<strong>

**Also, I just wanted to take a brief moment and thank all of you for everything you've done in supporting me every step of the way. Because of you all, Kiss the Cook won Best Hotch/Emily in the Profiler's Choice Awards! I'm...seriously touched. So thank you - for your votes, your feedback, your time, and your friendship.**


	43. Alpha

**Author's Note: And so the Clyde/Emily/Hotch (with just a tiny bit of Haley, ugh) saga continues! With this chapter, we're finally shown what happens the night of the fundraising gala - and afterward. I can't promise to satisfy each and every one of your fabulous whims, but I can confidently say that you won't be disappointed with the way this story will play out in the next couple installments. One word for you:_ drama. _**

**Hope you enjoy! As always, thank you so very much for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Do we really have to go?"<p>

Hotch knew Haley had spoken to him; he had heard her voice distinctly, but at the moment, he just couldn't focus – certainly not on her, anyway. No, instead, as he stared deep into the recesses of the mirror, into the recesses of his own dark reflection, all Hotch could think about was Emily.

The thoughts were eating him alive, clawing through his chest and wrapping around his heart in a vice-like grip as he envisioned her in a cloak of startlingly bright red. She was a vision to behold; she always had been. And while he was really busying himself with buttoning his perfectly starched tuxedo jacket – his mind was still on Emily. He ran a comb through his ink black hair – but his mind was on Emily. He straightened his bow tie –

_"Aaron?"_

Hotch had an actual physical reaction when Haley's voice met his ears once more. His comb clattered against the cold tile floor as he jerked out of the sultry reverie, his eyes glazed over for but a second before he met his ex-wife's curious and unyielding gaze. "Hmmm?"

Haley was not impressed, but made sure not to communicate that in her facial expression. "Do we really have to go?" she repeated, and she prided herself in the fact that her tone exactly the same as before.

"You don't," Hotch said bluntly. He hadn't really meant to be so cold, but the fact of the matter was, he regretted asking her to accompany him to the fundraiser. He _really_ didn't want to spend the entire night with her at his side; he had enough of that in his day-to-day life.

Haley looked momentarily affronted, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Glancing at the digital clock in the nearby bedroom, Hotch let out a little huff. It was already half past six, and she was still asking the question? "Besides," he said eventually, "you're already dressed."

She did look nice, he had to give her that much. The royal blue hue of her floor-length dress complimented her pale skin and blonde hair nicely. She rarely got the chance to get all dolled up, so he wasn't surprised that she had gone all out for the occasion – though he expected that she had done so with other motives in mind.

"I was just wondering," Haley said flatly, glancing away from him for the time being. She wasn't completely looking forward to the event; she had a gut feeling that Hotch's attention would be on a different woman for the entirety of the night. She wasn't wrong in her assumption, either.

"I know." Finally ready to depart for the night, Hotch made his way over to where Haley was standing, and watched as she put in a pair of diamond studs. "You look beautiful, by the way." He managed to keep any animosity out of his tone when he complimented her, which was a grand feat in and of itself – though that didn't exactly mean he was thinking happy thoughts all the while.

The little smile reappeared as she turned to face him, ready to leave the house as well. "Well, thank you," Haley said, reaching out to smooth down the lapel of his jacket. He stiffened imperceptibly at the seemingly innocent action, but if Haley noticed, she didn't say a word. "Are we all set?"

"We are," Hotch said, pulling away under the pretext of rummaging around for his keys. "I'll get the car?"

"Okay," Haley agreed a beat too late, watching his retreating figure. It was once he was out of earshot that she let out a quiet sigh and shook her head. There was one thing she knew for sure; it was going to be a hell of a long night.

~.~.~

"Oh sweet Jesus, you look _amazing_."

"I know." Emily breathed out a little laugh and smiled handsomely as she let Clyde into her brownstone, not surprised at all when he immediately pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. "Hello to you, too, Clyde. It's been a while."

"It certainly has been." He smirked as he watched Emily give him a once-over, taking in his perfectly pressed three piece tuxedo, his roguish smile, his piercing blue eyes. "But my goodness, I am one lucky man tonight." He snaked an arm around her waist as she grabbed the last of her belongings and headed back toward to the door. "What I would do to you..."

That earned him a teasing smack to his deliciously firm chest. "Oh boy, don't I know it." Emily turned to face him, smiling slyly when she realized just how close his face was to hers. "Let's get out of here."

"But what if I want to stay behind?" His voice was smooth like honey and hot in her ear, and Emily adored it. She would continue to indulge him with their telltale flirtatious banter for the rest of the night, but she knew – and she knew he did as well – that it wouldn't amount to anything more. Or at least, that's the assumption they were running with for the time being.

"We'd be late," Emily responded frankly, though good-naturedly, as he caved in and led her to his car. "And we can't have that happen, now can we?"

"I guess not," he murmured, entranced by the sway of her hips and the gorgeous flow of the red sequined material over her svelte figure. It was a damn perfect dress for her; long-sleeved and backless and floor-length and the most sexy thing he had ever seen.

But for a surprising moment, a pang of something other than lust coursed through him, catching him off guard. He was reminded of everything they had been through together; him as her boss, her as his subordinate, as lovers, as friends, as fighters. They had gone through more than their fair share of troubles and conflicts. They even had the scars to prove it – Emily especially.

The thought made his heart ache. He remembered the shell of a woman she had become; he remembered holding her, bruised skin against bruised skin, as she wept, and fought, and screamed in her sleep. From that moment on, he had wanted something more than the arrangement they had fallen into. He had wanted to protect her – but Emily Prentiss needed no protection.

That had been the end of that.

"Clyde?"

His eyes fell shut at the touch of her soft fingers to his cheek. He held them there for a moment longer, then gave an apologetic quirk of his lips. "Sorry, darling," he whispered. "I don't know what came over me." Before she could suspect a thing, Clyde's easy, roguish mask was back in place. "You're right; let's get out of here."

~.~.~

The air smelled of perfume and expensive cuisine as Clyde and Emily stepped out into the brisk night, allowing valet services to take care of the car. Without a word, Clyde's hand fell to the small of her back, as if this had been their normal for a thousand years. "I don't think I'll ever be able to wrap my head around the fact that you're this gorgeous yet you're still single," he said as they entered the lavishly but tastefully decorated ballroom.

A beat passed, then Clyde realized his slip-up. "That is, assuming that you _are_ single. I wouldn't be surprised it you're not." He frowned playfully at Emily's low, amused chuckle. "I know, I'm just digging my grave even deeper, aren't I?"

"Just a little bit." She gave a strange little smile that, for the life of him, he couldn't decode. "There's an interesting story about that, actually," she said vaguely. "It's long, though."

"I'd wager a guess to say we have quite a while." Clyde motioned around them, where countless couples were huddled together in their own private conversations – their own private little worlds. "Doesn't look like anyone will be bothering us. Though I can point out about fifteen men looking your way that would sure like to."

Emily gave his shoulder a soft shove. "Stop," she murmured, her eyes downcast and her smile real, as small as it was.

He just gave a kind laugh. "Tell me whom I have to hurt, darling."

She let him lead her to a table in the corner of the large room, smirking at his perfunctory grammar all the while. Their table weren't isolated by any means, but they weren't exactly in the center of attention either. "He's someone you know, actually," Emily said eventually. "I didn't make the connection until now."

Clyde looked at her for a while, studying her expression as his mind reeled with possibility after possibility. "Someone I know," he said quietly, mulling it over. Then something clicked. "Em, you know I love you, but please don't tell me it's Sean McAllister."

The thought made Emily burst into surprised laughter. "You have got to be kidding me," she said between breaths. "No, no, it's not him. But...good guess anyway?" Her half-hearted phrasing of the comment into a question made Clyde snort, but he stayed silent, waiting for her to explain her situation at her own pace.

As if unaware that Clyde was still there, Emily scanned the crowd of immaculately coiffed hair and expensive attire for the person she had yet to realize her stubborn heart was set on. She didn't see him anywhere, nor did she see Haley...but she knew he would be there soon enough. "He's here tonight," Emily said a beat later, her voice softer now.

Their similarly sharp gazes met. Emily could practically see the wheels turning in his head; she knew from experience he was the brooding type, and this time was no different. Clyde opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. After what seemed like an eternity, the Brit was finally able to form the question he wanted to ask.

"Hotchner," he said, in a tone of voice that made it clear he knew he was right. "Is – was it Hotchner?"

"I've always had the bad habit of falling for my bosses," Emily said in answer, with a wry smile that didn't quite meet her smoky eyes. "I'll leave it to you to determine whether that's a yes or a no."

"What happened?"

Emily allowed herself to stare off into the distance, her gaze resting on the far wall. "Aaron and I, we knew each other beforehand, before I joined the BAU." _Before you and I had even met. _

Clyde was catching on quickly. "And when you say you 'knew each other'..."

"We dated for a couple months. We established a connection I had never had before – not just in terms of romance, but in friendship, too. He _knew _me. But right when everything was falling into place, right when I began to feel at home...I had to go. To Connecticut, to Yale. To my new future." Emily didn't know why she was telling him all of this, but she just couldn't stop. "So we parted ways. I didn't think I'd see him again, though I always had this suspicion that I would, since he worked at my dream job, and I was determined to keep on fighting and never stop until I got there.

"When I did, and we saw each other after eight, maybe nine years, it was like nothing had changed between us. But that assumption was a foolish mistake, on both of our parts. He was recently divorced with a young son, and I...I was fresh out of Boston and the whole Doyle ordeal. You know perfectly well enough that I no longer knew how to trust. But he made me feel safe again, and I reveled in it.

"And then...everything fell apart." She gave Clyde's hand a small squeeze when he twined their fingers together. "His ex-wife wrongly guilted him into believing that he wasn't being a good enough father. And Aaron, he fell for it. Damn it, he fell hard. He moved back in, for the sake of sweet Jack...but he didn't realize that he wasn't doing his son any good. He had the best intentions, and I know that. But...having him break things off really hurt, you know?" Emily swallowed, then rolled her eyes. "The thing is, he won't stop apologizing. I _know_ he has changed recently. But then I look back at the last couple months, and I realize he has changed way too many times for me to count.

"He just...needs to find himself."

"He does," Clyde agreed, grabbing a flute of champagne from a nearby waiter and handling it to Emily with the unspoken knowledge that it was going to be one of the longest nights they had ever endured. "He does," he repeated; and then his back straightened reflexively as he saw the tall, very masculine figure weaving his way through the crowd of politicians and agents, coming right their way. "But meanwhile, I think he has found you."

In that instant, Emily hoped beyond hope she had misheard him. _"What?"_

And then, she heard his voice.

"Emily."

Almost unwillingly, Emily found herself rising to her feet, Clyde's arm once again wrapped possessively around her waist. She wasn't at all surprised to see Haley sidle up beside Hotch, appearing seemingly out of thin air; though there was something about the dark haired man's body language that sparked her interest. It was the squaring of his shoulders…as if he hadn't asked – nor had he wanted – Haley to follow him.

It was that little glimmer of _something _in the air between them that brought out Emily's pretty smile. "Aaron," she greeted heavily, before finally acknowledging the other woman's presence. "And Haley. It's good to see you again."

"It is," the blonde agreed, with a tight-lipped but pleasant enough smile of her own. "You really look lovely tonight. Red is certainly your color."

"That's what I keep trying to tell her."

Emily noticed with watchful eyes as Hotch's gaze begrudgingly shifted from her glorious figure to the man at her side. "Oh, where are my manners?" she clucked. "Aaron, Haley, this is my former boss and longtime friend, Clyde Easter. Clyde, you know Hotch –"

"Sure, I've heard plenty about him," Clyde said pointedly – directing the comment not at Emily but at the man himself.

"– and this is Haley, his…ex-wife."

"It's a pleasure," Clyde cut in, before Emily's tension could become painfully obvious. His, on the other hand, was evidenced through the way his and Hotch's handshake lingered for a second too long, his grip tightening for but a moment before finally letting go.

The resulting silence was deafening.

It was like a battle of wills; alpha male pitted against alpha male for the alpha female. It was as if Haley was forgotten.

"So," Clyde eventually said to Emily, though his eyes didn't leave Hotch's, "Emily, I was just about to ask you if you'd dance with me." He smiled at her then. "It'll be like Munich all over again."

They shared a cryptic, secretive glance that had Hotch in a fit of equal parts curiosity and jealousy alike – and Hotch barely had enough time to realize that Emily had dismissed him with a flippant, "_We'll speak later," _before she and Clyde breezed past them and disappeared onto the dance floor.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: The chapter after this is what I've been waiting to write all this time, by the way. You think the sexual tension up until this point has been intense; just you wait until the next update. I won't reveal much, but I will say that there is about a ninety-nine percent chance Hotch will ask Emily for a dance... <strong>

**But anyway, enough of my teasing, right? I am so grateful for the time you all have taken to read and review. If you have just a couple more seconds to spare, I would love it very much if you'd tell me what you thought about the chapter. Your feedback is the best driving force, and it never fails to bring me up when I need it most. So thank you sincerely in advance!**


	44. Mad World

**Author's Note: Just wanted to stop and take a moment to thank you all for blessing me in so many ways. With the holiday season in full swing, I'm reminded once again that I have so much to be thankful for, and you all are a great big part of that. Thank you sticking with this story especially; there are a heck of a lot of twists and turns, but I'm awe that you have such faith in me. And as a writer, I couldn't ask for anything better. So with that in mind, I hope you enjoy this new chapter! Things are still rocky, but I hope you'll see the glimmer of hope in the atmosphere...just like Hotch and Emily will. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"Are we going to dance?" Haley was met with silence, exactly the response she had not wanted. "Aaron?"<p>

In a heartbeat, Hotch was suddenly reminded of the blonde at his side, the blonde who had very rudely ripped him from his less than modest daydreaming. No one would have been surprised, if they had followed his gaze to the middle of the room, to see which two dancers he was paying rapt attention to. It wasn't as if Emily and Clyde weren't adding ample fuel to the fire; on the contrary, what they were doing at the very moment was too fiery for Hotch to comprehend. The flames were becoming all-encompassing. Yet Hotch found himself unable to look away. He couldn't have cared less for the British man; it was the gorgeous figure pressed against him with her back to his chest that had him captivated - completely and utterly overwhelmed.

It was the dress, too. A sultry red contraption with no back and long sleeves and sequins and a sweeping neckline and everything else that comprised _perfection._ In it, Emily was, quite simply, a goddess. Though tonight, it seemed as if she were Clyde's goddess to enjoy.

He was wrong, of course; but regardless, Hotch still couldn't bother himself with answering Haley at the moment. All he could focus on was the newly sickened feel that had settled at the bottom of his stomach. She was Clyde's to enjoy...and the Brit was doing just that. Hotch felt like a voyeur, dropping in on a private moment of two lovers that had no care for the world outside their comfortable little shared bubble. He was forced to watch as the two moved to the music like the notes were resonating from their very souls. The notes were seductive and smooth and strung together; so were their movements. Clyde's hand settled low on Emily's hip while hers came up to palm the side of his face. They swayed and they dipped – as did Clyde's mouth.

A white-hot burst of jealousy rocketed through Hotch's body as he watched Clyde press his lips against the porcelain skin of Emily's exposed collarbone, gradually moving up to her neck and then her ear. It was a slow motion, a thorough and unrelenting process that had Hotch nearly roaring with anger.

Emily, on the other hand, was not protesting in the slightest, a fact that dashed Hotch's hopes like nothing else. Rather, it seemed as if she were actually enjoying the action; she tossed her counterpart a smile before letting her eyes fall shut, succumbing finally to the too good, too rare feelings his lips were evoking.

Something changed in the air then. It was an almost tangible spark; for when Emily opened her eyes once more, she made sure their gazes locked. Hotch sucked in a breath at the intensity he saw in her dark gaze, even from seemingly miles away. Clyde was still mouthing at her neck, but all the while, she wouldn't look away; and Hotch wanted to, he really did, because the anger and jealousy he was feeling was futile and it would do him better to give Haley her one dance and drink the rest of the night away.

But then he saw the feline curl to her glossed lips. Emily made sure he was watching, that his attention was on no one but her; and the moment Clyde's teeth grazed her ear, she shot Hotch a wink.

Then her mouth parted just barely, her eyes fell shut once more...and the spark disappeared.

Hotch was left thoroughly confused, futilely envious, and more than a little aroused. It was wrong, what she and Clyde were doing - practically having sex right there on the dance-floor. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter and nearly downed it all at once, needing the alcohol to shock him into a different kind of sobriety, and to give him the courage for what he knew he had to do.

He would have to wait, though. The two almost-lovers were talking now, and as much as he wanted to hear what they were saying, he was too far away. Haley had dragged him too far away.

~.~.~

"You are so bad, Clyde Easter."

"And you absolutely love it, darling, don't you?"

Emily smacked him, and not for the first time that night either. "That is definitely not what I meant. Deliberately kissing my neck to taunt not just me...you think I don't know your little plan?" The question would have had the desired intimidating effect if her voice had not been husky and breathless.

"No, you're a smart woman, Emily. That being said, I didn't exactly hear you complaining about my...taunting." He gave her a rakish smile, one that Emily wanted to wipe right off of his mouth; but at the same time, Emily had never been so grateful for his company. For a little while, he had made her forget about the situation she was in, and forgetting had been just what she needed. She knew that, deep down, Clyde was a sweet man. He just had a very unique exterior. Years ago, she would have reveled in peeling back his layers - both figuratively and literally. But now, she was a different woman.

"You make it really difficult for a woman to complain, Clyde," she murmured; and her voice was briefly colored with something other than playful flirtation. Emily downcast her gaze for but a second, and when their eyes met once more, Clyde could tell something had shifted. "Listen...thank you for this."

His smile turned into something more inherently earnest. A new song was playing, and while their time for dancing had long since passed, they still hadn't moved away from the center of the room; so he simply rocked her back and forth, their feet barely moving. "What for, ma belle?"

Emily shrugged a little, before uttering a tiny, quiet laugh. "For making me feel beautiful tonight. As weird as it might sound, I've...needed that lately. So thank you."

Clyde simply shook his head. "Hey now. Don't thank me; it's your right to feel beautiful, because you are a beautiful woman. Anyone who can't see that isn't worth your time." A beat passed. "Though something tells me you-know-who definitely _does_ see that. He does, and he's seen it all night."

"I know he does," Emily said, and her voice was practically a whisper now. "I think I've always known it, because he has always shown me. It's just hard being in such an emotional limbo all the time, you know?"

He looked at her for a long moment; then sighed. "I do."

Emily smiled at that, then leaned in to leave a kiss to his cheek. "You're a good man, Clyde." _But sadly, not the man for me._

_But not the man for you._ Clyde knew it; he held no illusions. He was more than happy with the memories they had shared, of Munich, of Prague, of Milan, of Paris. He remembered the heartbreak of being unable to have a steady relationship with her all those years ago. But he also remembered moving on; being abundantly satisfied with the way their friendship had settled. The playful banter was refreshing and sweet; the emotional conversations that usually ended with either one of them - or both of them – in tears were perfect.

He wanted nothing more.

There was something else he knew, that there was a man in the same room as them that wanted more, that wouldn't settle with the arrangement he had fallen into. Clyde knew to support Emily at all times; he had often been her rock, just as she had often been his. But there was a part of him that couldn't help but feel sorry for Aaron Hotchner, the brute. Clyde knew what it was like to let Emily slip through his fingers. It hurt, and if the look on Hotch's face as he strode over to them was any indication...the other man knew the feeling just as well.

"Just don't give up hope, okay?" Clyde just barely got the sentence out before another man had broken the bubble they had formed around themselves. He watched as Emily processed his words of encouragement, watched as she turned to face Hotch as he rested a hand on her shoulder; the same shoulder that was bare and had previously fallen victim to Clyde's kisses.

He watched the brunette couple for a second longer...and then he turned away, in desperate need of a drink.

~.~.~

"May I have this dance?"

If her heart hadn't been beating faster than a hummingbird's wings, Emily would have laughed at the phrasing of the question; it was like a throwback right back to her childhood, when she had been a wide-eyed five year old waiting for her Prince Charming to sweep her into his arms - at one of her mother's lavish house parties, no less.

Now, Emily almost wanted to look for Haley in the sea of finely dressed attendees, curious as to how the blonde was taking this new development. But Emily couldn't look away from the man in front of her; she had long since fallen under his spell. It made her hate herself just a little bit, that even after every bit of pain she had fought with tooth and nail through, she still had feelings for the damned man. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Aaron?" At his blank look, she added, "We wouldn't want your wife - sorry, _ex-_wife - to start wondering, would we?"

"To be quite honest, Emily," he said, looking straight into her eyes, "I don't give a damn what Haley thinks." And without another word, he moved his hand from his shoulder to her slender waist...and let out an inaudible sigh of relief when her arms looped around his neck and she stepped into his innocent enough embrace.

There was the shift in behavior once more. He couldn't put his finger on it, and neither could she, but it was there, and it made them both feel a little bit more...at ease. Hotch was sure the moment he was living in was surreal; here was Emily, back in his arms, her cheek nearly pressed against his - they were that close. One turn of his head would bring his face into her hair. He could smell her shampoo, her perfume, and under it, the elegant and subtly sweet fragrance of her skin.

How he longed to taste that skin just one more time.

The thought was intoxicating, and suddenly became all he could think of; until he cleared his throat and broke his previously stifling silence. The words – the compliment, the praise – were out of his mouth before he could think. "You look absolutely stunning."

His voice was like honey, sweet and smooth and perfect. The quiet and low timbre flowed over her, crept under her skin, made Emily dizzy. She needed _more_. So he gave her more. "That dress..." Hotch let out a reverent breath as he took her in; she was so _close_. "It looks amazing on you."

Emily's lips curled into a sultry smile of their own volition, but she didn't exactly work to keep a straight face, either. "Yeah? I thought you'd like it." She let a little more of her weight rest against his chest, leaning in just that much more, just enough to have her senses flooded with the seductive smell of his cologne.

_Did she just say _–

Hotch looked at her, incredulous, and his rhythm faltered, but he gave her a small smile nonetheless. It didn't quite meet his eyes, but that was okay; they weren't quite _there_ yet.

He was going to make sure they would get there soon enough, though. He was done waiting. He was done pretending.

The song changed then, and Emily's breath caught in her throat as Hotch's gaze burned into hers in recognition. It had once been Hotch's favorite...Emily never forgot it.

_Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover..._

_...something in the way she woos me, I don't want to leave her now..._

They never stopped moving; their bodies molded together and moved as one, letting the velvety smooth tone of the song guide their way. Hotch moved his head just a titch, and suddenly, his whispering lips were perilously close to her ear. "I've missed you."

It took a moment for Emily to remember how to speak, for her to contemplate how to respond. His words had been so _sincere_...it made her heart hurt even more. But she was just so confused. "I've missed you, too," she admitted. Not a second had passed before she was elaborating. "I've missed the real you...the Aaron Hotchner I first met all those years ago."

If the conversation was developing into something more serious than either of them had been wanting or expecting, neither objected. "That's still me," Hotch swore.

"Is it?"

It was like a piece of Hotch's already chipped heart fell to the cream-colored tile floor and shattered. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth. His head felt empty. "We've danced to this song before," he said blankly, almost numbly.

Emily cocked her head to the side, pulling back just enough to stare at his handsome features; to notice the new, deeper lines that were marring his broad forehead. "I was just thinking that." Her heart thudded painfully against her chest; _You're asking me will my love grow, I don't know, I don't know. You stick around now, it may show._

Finally, as he dipped her at a swell of the crooned song, Hotch could take it no longer. "Listen, Emily, I am so sorry -"

She trembled out an exhale. Her eyes were sad. "I know you are," she assured gently. "You've done nothing but apologize." Emily swallowed thickly. "You've just – changed. So much. You have been changing, you won't stop changing back and forth. And I get it, people change, that's just life rearing it's ugly head. And I've changed, too; and maybe you're not entirely okay with that."

"– But I am."

Her voice was slowly dying away, as were the carefully constructed walls holding her in place. "The thing is, I just don't know; how am I supposed to know you won't change again?" _That you won't choose her again. That we'd fall back into our old rhythm; that we'd trust each other for the hundredth time._

"I won't." Hotch's voice shook out of sheer passion. "You would have my word."

As much as Emily wanted to simply fall into his arms, she knew it was not that easy. "And you never go back on your word, right?"

The air between them was suddenly tense; tense like the sudden set of his shoulders, tense like the frown that settled on her lips. Hotch remembered his broken promises and he hated himself for them. "Emily..."

He looked...broken.

Emily didn't want to leave his arms as their song ended, but she knew she had overstayed her welcome. "I guess time will tell," she said simply, and there was something about her then that made Hotch wonder at the fact that she had possibly not given up hope.

"...And maybe lunch. On Monday?" She did that thing again as she made the offer, extended the fragile olive branch, where she took her bottom lip between her teeth then soothed it with her tongue. He loved it.

Hotch was right in his assumption, of course. Emily hadn't given up hope. She wanted to be bitter and stay bitter, but that simply wasn't possible with him. He was a different man entirely, set apart from all the others in a myriad of wonderful ways.

And so he smiled. "Lunch sounds perfect."

She would be forgiving. He just didn't know it yet; Emily wasn't quite sure she was ready to admit it, to open herself up to him – or anyone else – once more. But she wouldn't give up on him, and it wasn't just her voice that keyed him in.

Carefully, with baited breath, Emily leaned in just as they were preparing to part. And as if they were the only ones left in the grand ballroom, Emily pressed a barely-there but perfect kiss to his cheek, almost to the corner of his mouth.

It was a parting gift, one that left them both with their hearts on their sleeves, with matching expressions written clearly across their faces. It reminded them for but a second just how good they had been together. How good they had been for one another.

For the life of him, Hotch couldn't remember how to breathe. A hand touched the place her lips had just been, and in a moment that couldn't be paralleled anywhere but in a movie, he watched as she afforded him a small but real smile. She moved into the crowd then, leaving him with a parting gift so tender Hotch almost believed he had imagined it. Almost.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: You all are seriously the best. If I could overstay my welcome and ask for just one more minute of your time, I would seriously love to hear what you thought about this chapter. Just think of it as a little Christmas gift! ;) <strong>

**Speaking of which, since I'm sure I won't be able to grind out another update in two days, I hope you all have a beautiful and peaceful Christmas and holiday season surrounded by family and lots of love! Thanks for everything you do. **


	45. Kiss and Tell

**Author's Note: Chapter 45 – wherein JJ and Garcia pester Emily to death, Hotch realizes exactly what a dumbass he's been, Emily takes Clyde home, then runs into someone familiar. Enjoy! Much love to you all.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"Emily Elizabeth Prentiss. What was that?"<p>

Emily stopped at the sound of her friend's telltale voice. For a long moment, she considered ignoring the question, but she was frozen in place, rooted to the floor. Paralyzed. Slowly, she turned to face JJ and Garcia. "What was what?" she feigned. Her heart pounded unforgivingly.

"That dance," JJ said simply, the black of her dress making her blue eyes look sharper and wider than they actually were. "That _kiss_."

_Shit._

_And to think, I thought today would end on a good note. _Emily carefully looked at them both before sighing tinily. "It was nothing. Clyde has always been a flirt like that –"

"No, not Clyde, Emily," JJ said patiently.

"– though that is a different story entirely," Garcia butted in.

"You and Hotch," JJ spelled out finally. "You can't tell me – us – that was 'nothing'."

Emily bit her lip hard enough to bleed, eying the crowd in the hopes that Clyde would be able to bail her out. Instead, her gaze travelled by chance to a corner of the ballroom where, in a flash of cerulean, she saw Haley give Hotch a kiss – or, at least, try to. It perked her intrigue when she saw Hotch turn his head so that her attempted kiss landed not on his lips but on the far edge of his cheek. Even from so far away, she could see the distaste in his eyes. It made Emily feel – well, she didn't know what it made her feel, really. A little smirk teased the corner of her lips, though.

Then she remembered that the two blondes were waiting for an answer. "Ladies...what if I told you I really would prefer to not explain?" She knew she wouldn't be able to get off that easily – they were all a little bit more than buzzed from the champagne and wine –, but she decided to try nonetheless.

Like she had initially expected, resistance in the face of the two gossip-hungry women was the epitome of futile. "C'mon, Em. You never even told us much about that old boyfriend of yours. Cut us some slack here."

Emily arched an eyebrow. "Because you two share so much about your love lives, too, right?" she drawled.

"I'd say as much as I could if I had anything to talk about in the first place," JJ pointed out. "Garcia, on the other hand –"

"Hey, now. I told you both about Kevin. It's not like we're even a thing yet; we've only talked a handful of times. Believe me, you wouldn't be able to shut me up if something more..._momentous_ happened." Garcia nodded emphatically as she spoke.

"Look," JJ sobered slightly, "I get it. You want to keep things private. Especially when you work with profilers, that task is difficult enough. But let loose some, Em." There was a pause. "Or at least let us speculate," she winked, making it a sport

"We already know our chickadee here has a thing for the tall, dark, and handsome species; can't fault her for that."

Emily felt the sick weight of dread settling at the bottom of her stomach. She loved the two like family, and she knew they were only picking fun, with the best intentions...but she still felt sick. "Alright, guys –"

"And let's get real here, Aaron Hotchner is all those three things and more," JJ supplied.

Silence.

"Wait, didn't Hotch say you two had known each other previously? Before you joined the Bureau."

Emily met their gazes briefly, her expression blank, then averted her eyes. "Y-yes." _So this is how rumors are made_. She was resigned to her fate now. She wasn't about to explicitly tell them any details; she would simply let them figure it out. And if they had any questions...

She wouldn't stop them, not when they were already so close.

"Does this mean –" JJ was interrupted by the shrill laughter of a woman nearby. Her piercing blue eyes were solemn now. "Emily, is Hotch the 'tall, dark, and handsome ex-boyfriend' you mentioned a while back?"

By some demented twist of fate, Emily felt exhaustion seep into her bones. Yet somehow, she was able to muster a wry little laugh. "Wow...you guys got all over that from one simple kiss on the cheek? And neither of you are official profilers."

"No," Garcia conceded, "but we're women."

Emily finally gave a definitive nod. "Yes," she breathed. "It was a long time ago; it's been almost nine years since then. We were different people, with different priorities. But it was him."

"'Was'?" JJ noted. Something about the tone behind the words snagged her attention.

"...is," Emily corrected, obviously worn. "Listen, JJ, Pen...no one else can know about this. I've taken too many risks in the past month. I-I just can't anymore." Garcia made a point of zipping her lips and throwing away the key, an action that didn't pacify Emily in the slightest.

A steadying breath suddenly became the only sound in the loud ballroom; and eventually, Emily found the resolve to explain. "I used to work with his brother, Sean. Sean, bless his heart, was always trying to find me a boyfriend, and apparently his matchmaking hopes extended in the direction of his brother, as well. He set us up for a date one night and Aaron and I – _Hotch _and I – hit it off immediately. We dated for three months before I got an offer I couldn't turn down. Yale accepted me into their Criminal Justice program, which had always been my dream. So I left for Connecticut, and we didn't see each other after that – until I landed a job here at the Bureau." Emily deliberately left out some specifics - like the fact that they had seen each other twice more after she had left for Connecticut. Just the thought of their desperate love-making set her insides on fire...and not entirely in a good way.

She swallowed thickly. "Naturally, when I came to work here and we reconnected, things were...different."

"He had Jack," JJ said softly.

"And then there was Haley."

Emily nodded at Garcia. "And, well, I bet you two can connect the dots from that point onward."

"That sounds unbelievably hectic," Garcia said sympathetically.

That made Emily bark out a short laugh. "Yeah...you have no idea." She tried for a smile as JJ rubbed her arm soothingly but it came out looking bleak and odd. Her stomach lurched.

And from across the room, she saw Clyde – and breathed a sigh of relief. In him, she would grasp at an escape.

She waited for one more beat to pass before pursing her lips into something like a frown. The expression came easily to her this time. "Well, ladies, I hope you don't mind, but I think I'm going to head home for the night. I don't think I've been this tired in my life." It was a bit of a stretch, but Emily did _need _to leave. The heavy perfume, the politicking, the communicative glances from across the room - it was all a little overwhelming.

Concern briefly flitted across JJ's face, and Emily could have laughed at the instantaneous shift in behavior. "Are you okay, Em?"

"I'll be fine," Emily brushed off, motioning towards Clyde. "I just need to get out of here before my night ends on a truly sour note." The girls, subtly but rightfully chastened, shared a careful, one-shoulder hugs, so as to not mess up painstakingly coiffed hair. Clyde, adept at reading body language – especially hers – had her breathing fresh air before Emily could realize they were outside.

"For a moment there, I was sure you were going to pass out," Clyde said worriedly, his arm snaking around her waist and holding her uptight. "You looked like you couldn't breathe."

"That about sums it up." She lolled her head to the side, resting it comfortably against his shoulder. "I just wanted to get out of there. It just got...stifling all of a sudden."

Clyde looked at her, and their walking slowed. "What were your friends pestering you about?"

Their gazes met, and Emily's was dry, amused but mirthless. "Take a guess."

He frowned at that, then gave her a gentle kiss to her temple, a sympathetic squeeze to her sequin-covered hip. "I'm sorry, darling."

"Don't be, you have nothing to be -"

_"Emily!"_

The shout very nearly made Emily's resolve come crashing down, but she managed to remain standing; only because Clyde tightened his hold around her middle, she was sure. "Aaron?" She turned, her eyes bright – but wary. "What are you doing here?"

Hotch caught up to them then, barely acknowledging Clyde's presence before addressing the gorgeous brunette once more. "Where are you going?" he wondered aloud, his voice quiet, almost desperate.

Her expression softened. "Clyde's driving me home. I don't feel too well," Emily admitted, hoping he wouldn't – but knowing he would – worry. She knew it wasn't just the alcohol that was making her feel queasy, either. "There were just too many people," she said in answer to the question she knew was sure to come, "and you know I hate politics."

Hotch nodded in understanding, then reached out to gently touch her shoulder. There it was again – _that spark_. "I hope you feel better soon, Emily," he murmured, the words for her ears only.

She covered his hand with hers for a single second and smiled in thanks, then reluctantly let go and whispered a goodbye. It was only after watching him go back into the ballroom that Emily truly felt like curling into a ball and forgetting about everything else the outside world entailed.

_"Let's get out of here."_

~.~.~

"I kind of wish you didn't have to leave."

"Kind of?" Clyde smirked down at her, watching as she tossed her heels – those Louboutin heels with the blood red soles that drove him mad – to the side of the room. It was a welcome distraction from the call he had just gotten; their time on stand-down had come to a begrudging end and it was time to dive headfirst into yet another case. He regretted having to leave Emily alone on a night like this, especially following her suggestion that he come up for some black coffee to sober them up. If it had been any other time in their lives, he would have grabbed onto the underlying proposal with both hands – perhaps they would have been able to indulge in something else to sober them up.

He didn't have to ask to know Emily had been reflecting on the same thing. She kept her thoughts to herself, of course; she wasn't sure how either man would react if they had known it amused her to think that she might have ended up using the red negligée she had bought for Hotch - for Clyde.

She smiled back at him, rolling her eyes. "'Kind of'," she repeated, breathing out a little laugh as he followed her around the brownstone like the little lost puppy that he was. "Clyde, come on. You're going to be late; don't you have to meet your team in a couple of minutes?"

"I suppose I do," came his rumbling reply. "I don't like any of them as much as I like you, though." He tossed her a grin, one that became soft when she crushed herself against his chest.

"Thank you for indulging me with your company tonight," Emily murmured. "I promise I won't let so many months come between us next time."

"I'll hold you to that," Clyde said, mock-sternly. He watched with interest as she padded around her bedroom, tossing clothes onto her bed and shaking out a pair of well-loved jeans. Finally, he let out a sigh, resignedly checking his watch to see what he knew was a too-late hour. "Well, darling, I guess you're right; I should go."

Emily pouted at that, but nodded, knowing he was crunched with time. She gave him one final smile before stopping in her tracks, one last question on her lips right as he made to step out of the room. "Hey...Clyde?"

He turned back to face her, a curious expression on his handsome face. "Yeah, Em?"

Her expression, in turn, was sheepish; sheepish yet sly. "Could you do me one last favor?"

He rolled his eyes playfully, but walked back toward her nonetheless. "I suppose I could," he answered, his voice dry and colored with sarcasm. "If you insist. What do you need _this_ time?"

"...Think you could help me out of this dress?"

~.~.~

Clyde had only been gone for a couple minutes before Emily began to pace the room. She wasn't tired in the slightest; Clyde's hands stripping her of the body-forming, sequined material had wiped all traces of exhaustion from her system. There was a sense of liberation and newness about her and she knew it was because she had left the packed, stifling ballroom. She had desperately needed a change of scenery and now, now she was determined to get that. The night was still young; if she were being honest with herself, Emily knew she wasn't ready at all to turn in for the night. She still wanted – no, needed – more of the night scene.

She needed more to drink.

Emily wasn't even drunk, and it wasn't as if she was planning on becoming so. Her buzz was slowly disappearing, a fact she didn't especially like. She could have easily broken into her own selection of wines and other liquors, but it simply wouldn't have been the same. Neither Clyde nor Hotch were particularly available at the moment; but the local bar was.

She liked it because it wasn't too seedy. It was small and warmly lit, with an eclectic selection of music that made everyone feel that much more alive. Checking the digital clock sitting on her bedside table, Emily figured she'd have at least one good hour to let loose – and maybe even chat up an attractive gent or two.

Even though she had been left alone to her thoughts, Emily afforded herself a little smile as she slipped on her jeans and a silky black top. Coupled with heels – thankfully shorter than the Louboutins she had been sporting all night –, she knew she looked good. She was by no means scouting for a male companion; but surely it couldn't hurt to get dolled up every once and a while, did it?

All of this was running through her mind as she hailed a cab and directed the driver a couple streets over. So occupied was she with her thoughts, her thoughts of Clyde, her especially lingering thoughts of _Aaron_, that Emily paid no heed to the handsome blonde interestedly watching her fold her slender body onto a barstool.

She would have gone the entire night unaware of his presence if the bartender hadn't snagged her attention as she tried to order a Jack with lime. "Compliments of the guy in the corner booth, with the leather jacket," he said, handing her a thin-necked bottle of Guinness – what she thought to be an interesting choice of beer.

Curious and a little more than intrigued, Emily turned to take a look at the man the bartender had mentioned; a man who looked perilously familiar.

It took her no more than a second of observation before she realized just where she had seen him before.

_"Sean?"_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I really need to stop with the cliffhangers, don't I? No? Okay, good, because there are so many left to come. ;) <strong>

**That being said (please don't hate me), I sure hope you loved this chapter - I'd love to hear from you if you have an extra minute to spare! No matter short or long, signed or anonymous, your reviews are the best motivation for me and I appreciate them so much. Thanks in advance!**


	46. Catharsis

**Author's Note: You know how you all threw rocks at Haley and Hotch that one time (okay, so maybe 'those several times')? Well, you're more than welcome to throw anything at Sean now. Because as much fun as I could've had in bringing him back, this chapter reminded me why I sent him away in the first place. That being said, this chapter is not the last we will see of him.**

**All I can really say is...that escalated quickly.**

**But something important to remember is that you guys still love me and this story and that things will get better, yes. Please don't hurt me. (And enjoy!)**

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><p><em>"Sean?"<em>

The blonde got to his feet at that, confusion etched into his features before he stepped closer – and recognition dawned on him as well. "Oh my God, Emily? Is that you?"

Emily rose to her feet, laughing a little as he closed the distance between them and gave her a pleasantly surprised hug. "Come on, don't tell me you didn't know it was me when you bought me that drink. You even knew I used to be a big fan of Guinness." _And other things Irish._

She kept that last bit to herself.

"No, I swear I didn't," Sean insisted, his eyes bright. "And that didn't even occur to me. I just saw an attractive woman walk in and I figured I'd be a fool if I didn't at least make an attempt to talk to her." His smile was just as smooth and easy as it had always been.

That made Emily smirk. "I bet you use that line on all of your ladies," she teased, allowing him to lead her to his booth, her drink in tow.

"You'd be wrong with that assumption, actually. But enough about that." He held her at arm's length before she could sit down. "You look just as gorgeous as you did back when I last saw you. How have you been? Why are you here in DC?"

"I could ask you the same," she retorted, turning the tables. "I finally got my dream job, would you believe it? And you! This isn't New York, just in case you were confused. What brings you here?"

"I was actually just driving through. I was going to see if Aaron was free tonight so we could have dinner, catch up in whatever time I could spare. But he wasn't answering his cell." He shook his head. "But Emily, that's great news! I knew you'd make it to the BAU someday." Finally, a thought occurred to him. "Wait, this means you work with Aaron. You see him every day. How is he?" An awkward beat passed. "How are...you two?"

It was a question Emily had certainly been expecting. What caught her off-guard was her sudden reluctance to explain everything that had culminated since she joined the Bureau. "It's a long story," she warned, cradling her beer with an almost affectionate touch.

Sean made a show of glancing at his watch before saying, "We have more than enough time."

And so, Emily talked. She told him nearly everything, save for the details she wanted to keep as secrets shared between her and Hotch only. They remained intimate ground for the just two of them to tread on.

She talked until her throat was dry. There were stories about settling into her new Connecticut life; stories about reconnecting with Hotch after years and years; stories about crumbling to pieces as Haley waltzed back into the picture. Emily was preparing to transition into the most recent phase of their lives when Sean spoke up.

"He's a fool to have ever let you go in the first place," the younger Hotchner brother said, in the middle of beer number – beer number _something_. Emily couldn't remember. "I sure wouldn't have."

Sean's brow clinched together as he seemed to realize what he had just said; and it was then that Emily realized just how drunk they were. She, too, had lost count of how many drinks had passed in front of her. Time had flown by faster than she could comprehend. It had been at least an hour since Clyde had driven her back to her place, and while she hadn't been but pleasantly buzzed then, she was certainly more than buzzed now. The thought bothered her for a second, and she promptly pushed away her unfinished beer. "S–so how's life in the big city?" Emily sputtered, changing the subject.

"Work has been good," Sean said, leaning back and stretching a little, his gaze all the while on her. "Business is booming; we opened another restaurant in a different part of the city, and I might transfer there. Maybe. I'm still contemplating the idea." He covered his mouth as a short yawn slipped past. "Haven't actually had a social life in a while, though."

"Poor Sean," Emily teased, laughing a little louder than she had intended when he shot her a fail of a menacing glare. "How come? Not enough time?"

"Yeah, that, I suppose. There've been a couple girls but none of them have had that connection, you know what I mean?" Emily looked a little like she was zoning out; _Probably thinking about Aaron,_ he guessed. He wasn't wrong.

"But anyway." Emily blinked, then smiled a little as she refocused on his face. "You look amazing, by the way," he said, leaning in closer than Emily was initially comfortable with; but it was _Sean_, her best friend who she hadn't seen in much too long.

She rolled her eyes, but felt her cheeks heat from not just the rush the alcohol was giving her, but from his compliment as well. "Well, thank you. I just grabbed the first items of clothing I could find out of my closet, to be honest. I didn't really even have plans to come here in the first place; though now I'm glad I did."

"To be honest," Sean quoted, "I wasn't talking about your clothes. Though that is a really nice blouse." He stood then, huffing out a laugh as his head spun and he staggered from one foot to the other. A hand was thrust in her direction. "Wanna dance with me? Come dance with me."

Emily shook her head emphatically at that, the action making her dizzy. "No, no way. I'm all danced out today," she whined, protesting as he took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. Something reminiscent to a laugh spilled from her lips. "Sean..."

"Please? Just one dance." She could smell the alcohol on his breath; or was it on hers? Again, she felt dizzy.

"No –"

"Come on, Em," he grinned.

_"No,"_ she grumbled, her eyes still sparkling with mirth as she choked on a laugh. She tried but failed to keep a straight face. Nonetheless, he continued pulling her toward the center of the dimly lit room. "Sean Hotchner, I swear to God, if you don't stop right this minute –"

Thing is, he didn't stop. In a fit he would surely blame on the alcohol – for it was predominantly the alcohol's fault –, he tugged her all the way against his chest and covered her mouth with his. For a split second, Emily didn't process what was happening; and she let him kiss her.

Then the entire world came back to her in a heartbeat. And she gasped in a mixture of shock and disgust – at Sean, at herself, at everyone and everything –, tearing away and scrabbling at his chest to get him to stop. She didn't have to try very hard; Sean, too, looked momentarily stunned, as if what he had just done had been without his conscious mind or body's permission. His eyes widened…and one word fell from his lips.

_"Shit."_

His heart thumped in something akin to fear as he looked at Emily, watched as she stared at him but not _really_ at him; there was something distant in her eyes, something that made him think that the kiss – and what a great kiss it had been, albeit an unreciprocated one, for the thousand milliseconds it had lasted – had been the straw to break the camel's back.

To break Emily's. Without thinking, he tried to reach out to her, to manage a stuttered and lame apology, but she recoiled as if his fingers had branded her skin. The room suddenly became scorching hot, she couldn't breathe; yet it was like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on her, soaking her to the skin in the most unpleasant of ways. The dichotomy between hot and cold suddenly became too much for her to handle.

She wanted out.

Sean cringed as he watched her glance back at their booth, then back at him, and he could tell she was looking for an escape. "Emily," he said finally, and he cursed the way his voice slurred at the very end. "Emily, look, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I mean I, I just thought –"

"Thought _what_?" The retort had a bite that made Sean regret ever opening his mouth in the first place. _That because I was so confused, I wouldn't mind another thing to shake up the already tenuous hold I have on my sanity? That because I was so confused, because I was not technically in a relationship, one little kiss wouldn't matter? _

_My heart is set._

"I love your brother, Sean," she choked out after a silence that had made Sean want to shrink away and never speak again. "Am I _in love _with him? Still, after all this time? After everything he has done, after all of our fights? I don't know, and to be quite honest, I'm not sure I ever will. That's how much of a mess I am. I'm _damaged. _But the heart wants what the heart wants, and now I know what – who – my heart wants."

"I'm sorry," Sean repeated pathetically. He breathed out a sigh as he watched her slap down enough bills on the table and grab her purse, hiking it high up on her shoulder. "Please don't go; we weren't even finished talking, reconnecting. Damn it, I always ruin things like this. Could you...maybe forget this happened?"

Emily looked at him, the brightness of her gaze dulling gradually as her expression made to soften. A pity party hadn't been her intention; she didn't want the younger Hotchner brother to hate himself, but she was a woman who forgave more often than she forgot.

She forgot nothing. It very often made her life a living hell. There were so many - too many - nightmares that seemed like reality.

"Sean," she said steadily, and for a moment, she was actually proud of herself for preventing any tremors from bleeding into her voice, "you have my number. Let's not go years without talking to one another ever again. But that being said, tonight has been too crazy for me to comprehend...it's just been too much. I _need_ to leave. I need to breathe. I've felt like I'm choking this entire day; no, longer. This was just," she wiped her mouth discreetly, "yet another box for me to compartmentalize." _I'm done_.

"At least let me drive you home," he said, his eyebrows once again knitted together.

"No way," Emily responded on an incredulous, almost nervous laugh. "You're just as drunk as I am. You'd get us killed."

"It's late, it's not safe –"

"That's what cabs are for." Her tone left no room for discussion. Emily made sure to turn away as her eyes began welling with frustrated tears; but she did spare him one last glance. "Goodnight, Sean. It was good seeing you again. I'll tell Aaron you're well."

"Yeah," Sean said numbly, walking with her as she got the attention of a cab-driver that had been parked at the curb. He said nothing as she climbed in the car, breaking his silence only to lean close to the driver's window and say, "Make sure she gets home safe, please."

The driver, a sweet old man with laugh lines permanently etched into his features, gave him an understanding nod and a little salute. But both men were painfully oblivious to the way Emily sunk deep into the worn out grey leather seat, her eyes acting as the only indicator to the way she was breaking. Her only hope was that the break would not be irrevocable.

It was a miracle in and of itself that Emily was able to hold out until they drove up to her brownstone. The tears were barely containable now; neither was the exhaustion. She slumped against her front door, fumbling for her keys and very nearly ripping her hair out when she didn't find them on the first try. Everything was crumbling. The alcohol was no longer her problem.

Everything else was.

Finally, Emily stumbled into the space she called her home, making a beeline for her bedroom. She didn't bother with taking off clothes or following her usual night routine. Rather, she collapsed into bed like a wet and torn paper doll. Her tears stained her pillowcases beyond repair, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She had enough to worry about as is.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: And then Hotch finds out. And Emily finds out other things. And there are arguments - not necessarily between our beloved brunettes. And shit gets real. The end. (Not really. I couldn't quit this story if I tried.) <strong>

**So you see what I mean about not throwing things at me. Consider this a deus ex machina; I think all of you will be more than pleased with the next chapter. I know it will be a relief to write. Let me just put it this way - the wait is over. It's a New Year, time for a new page in this story. I've made you all (and myself) wait for too long. I can do nothing but thank you for sticking with me through all this and constantly blessing me with your support. You all have made such an impact on my life, and I can only hope that I've made you all smile through some of my stories. It's the least I could do.**

**So with that being said; have a beautiful New Year, you beautiful people. Much love.**


	47. Purgatory

**Author's Note: Well, here it is. One of the many chapters you all have been waiting for - the first part especially. Excited? I hope so. As always, thank you so very much for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>It lasted for what seemed to be an hour. An eternity.<p>

There was shouting, and it quickly became too much for Hotch to handle. Shouting, name-calling, insulting, disrespecting – it was all just too much.

But Hotch wasn't going to back down. He wasn't entirely sure how their 'conversation' – if 'conversation' wasn't too pleasant a word – had begun, but it was rapidly spiraling into something hateful, and Hotch knew: any second now, he was going to snap.

Haley simply went on and on. Her eyes were sharp, bright as she turned her gaze to him once more. "I just don't understand you, Aaron," she continued, shaking her head. "Embarrassing me like that last night, in front of everyone you know; and what was with that kiss?"

Hotch couldn't help it; he cocked his head to the side drolly and arched an eyebrow. "Which one?"

Haley very nearly scowled. "You _know_ which one. It's always 'Emily this, Emily that' with you. _Embarrassing,_" she repeated.

"Embarrassing?" Hotch tossed right back. "For whom? Why would that have been embarrassing for you, Haley? I hope you don't think you have some sort of _claim _on me, because you would be dead wrong."

"Aaron –"

"No, you know what would have been really embarrassing? If I had called a cab for you and sent you home. I came damn close to doing just that," he informed, laughing at the thought. "So consider yourself lucky."

"'Lucky'?" Haley let out an incredulous spurt of laughter to match his. "Go to hell, Aaron."

"I'm already in it," Hotch spat instantly. His eyes seemed to spark with fire. "Purgatory almost seems like a kind word to describe what I'm living. I haven't felt like myself for months. No, I haven't _been_ myself. I've acted out of line, uncharacteristically so. I should have listened to Emily before this whole mess began. I didn't take her seriously when we met for lunch – the day I told her we'd have to break things off. She told me I was going to be manipulated, taken advantage of; and I so didn't want to believe her, because I wanted so badly to believe you only had good intentions." A best passed and he frowned with something akin to disgust. "Boy, was I wrong."

It was Haley's turn to arch an eyebrow. She spoke with irritated fervor, but something told Hotch she was losing what little fight she had left. "Are you actually going to bring that – no, _her _– up right now? She has nothing to do with –"

"Let me finish," he growled, and his gaze pinned Haley to her spot against the wall better than any physical touch could have. He took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm himself before he did something he regretted – like raising his voice loudly enough to wake Jack up. "You say you don't understand me; you don't understand _yourself_. You're the most jealous and selfish woman I've ever met and you absolutely refuse to acknowledge it. Emily has everythingto do with this – this situation, this whatever we've landed ourselves in. You think I haven't figured it out; this little game of yours. You made it all about yourself but hid under the guise of it being for Jack's wellbeing."

Hotch shook his head, mirroring her earlier action and stance. "That's just evil, Haley."

He could see it now; the slackening of her shoulders as she rested more weight against the wall she was leaning against. He realized he was right. She was giving up. But he wasn't about to. She had kicked him while he was down and he was never going to forget it.

So he cut her apology short. "You're not sorry." His voice was softer now, but carried twice the amount of intensity. "If you were sorry, you would never have dragged me into this in the first place. If you were sorry, you wouldn't have made a scenario so perfect in order to push Emily away. For God's sake, I _trusted _you." He closed his eyes, paced the expensive wood floor. "What really kills is me is how you blatantly used a bad situation – Jack getting hurt at daycare and me not being there – to your advantage. I get it; I was the one who filed for divorce. You didn't want that. But using our son, abusing Emily, to get what you wanted…I was happy, Haley. Having Emily back at the BAU made me really happy and even though we had a hell of a lot of relationship troubles, I was convinced we would be able to work them out."

"Listen to me, Haley." Defeated, she begrudgingly turned to meet his gaze. "Jack is too young; you said it yourself in this very same context. He's too young to grow up like this but he's also too young to understand why his parents aren't together anymore. But he will learn. If this had continued, if I had pushed away whatever little bit of myself I had left and tried to continue on with whatever you had in mind, Jack would have begun to wonder why his dad was so sad every single day. Why his mother didn't seem like herself either." He swallowed thickly. "I'll go so far to say that this wasn't entirely your fault – though you certainly did start the whole mess. I was selfish; this wasn't helping nor was it serving Jack, this was serving you, and I let myself fall back on disgusting manipulation because I was too scared to act on my own. I wasn't a man; I was a coward, and I hurt the woman I loved."

At the moment, it seemed as if Haley couldn't speak even if she wanted to. So Hotch simply kept on talking. It was about time he got the weight off of his shoulders and freed his body of the heavy burden that had been pressing against his chest and heart for much too long.

"As parents, we know Jack needs and wants both of us to be with him; and I knew, no matter how far back my past went with Emily, I had to put Jack first because he is my own flesh and blood. I know what you tried to do, but I don't appreciate the way you went about it in the slightest. You know I had something with her; I told you about her before we even got married. Given that you knew about our previous relationship and how…ready I was to start things up again with her…" He trailed away, but the little voice at the back of his conscience added in one final thought. _You should have known you weren't the one for me. _

"I tried to be nice. Instead, I was naïve."

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest, and took a single, resolute step in her direction, still keeping a mile of space between them. "It's over, Haley. I'm done."

When Haley finally spoke, it was in a tiny, conceding voice, her eyes filled with something that Hotch was sure couldn't be shame - though it looked like it. "She obviously does make you happy," she said, her tone hoarse. "I could – can – see it in your eyes." _I remember when you used to look at me like that._ The thought wasn't bitter; just sad.

Hotch crossed the main room and began gathering whatever files he would need for the day. His previously immaculately pressed and ironed suit was now a little worn around the edges, but Hotch was late enough as it is. It would have to do. "Actually," he said conversationally, "she infuriates me. She makes me worry and she tests my patience." He hiked his briefcase up on his shoulder, then glanced from the front door back at Haley. "But then again, she could probably say the same about me."

He was halfway out the door before he said, "I'll be back later tonight to start packing the stuff that I brought over in the past months. I'd do it now, but I'm late enough for work as it is – and I promised Emily I'd meet her for lunch. I don't want her to worry."

"Okay," was all Haley could manage, as she wore a tight-lipped frown and watched him stride toward his car. "Have a good day," she said lamely, raising a hand in farewell.

"You, too," he said briefly, before putting the car in reverse and getting the hell out of dodge.

He was going to see Emily; and this time, nothing was going to get in his way.

~.~.~

Emily's sleep was riddled with too little rest and too many nightmares. A repetition of one in particular, really; one that had scream after scream being torn from her throat – from deep in her soul. It was so easy for her to forget she was actually sleeping. The touches, the jeers, the fear and pain; it all seemed so real.

It seemed as if just yesterday, the nightmare had been her reality.

Emily wanted to believe herself when she said she hadn't thought of Ian Doyle in ages – but the fact of the matter was, every time her life got a little darker, the bastard's presence became a little more prevalent.

_He was there now; tying her limbs to a wooden chair and shoving a portable computer onto her lap, showing her just who he was targeting next. All because of her._

_A soul-wrenching sob fell from her lips as Doyle pointed his men in the direction of a man whose tall frame and sturdy build she knew so well. Her eyes never left the screen as she watched him cross the large, empty parking lot, his strides long and even and overwhelmingly powerful. She knew what Doyle was planning next; she knew what he was going to do, and the thought made her tears burn hotter._

_"Please, Ian __–__ please don't hurt him."_

_Doyle regarded her coolly, a wicked smile contorting his lips as he stroked her cheek. "You took the only thing that mattered to me, Emily. Consider this me returning the favor."_

_"He doesn't even know you exist; he has nothing to do with us. He doesn't know of my past." Her crying became hysterical as she saw the target focus on Hotch's back. "Please spare him, Ian. Kill _me._ I'll do anything __–__"_

_Doyle's hand moved from a lover's caress to a vicious slap across the face. "You make me sick, Emily. You're nothing but a good-for-nothing, _pathetic _whore." _

_"He has a _son,_ Ian," she wailed, her breathing uneven and restricted. _

_"A son? A son?" Doyle roared. "I wonder what that must be like, Emily." There was a split second of ominous silence. And then burning pain. "Maybe it would serve him well to know what it feels like to miss his own flesh and blood."_

_His answer came in the form of an ear-splitting scream. _"NO."

_But Ian Doyle only smiled at that. "You choose, Emily," he said, leaning in close, so close that she could feel his breath on her neck. "Who lives? Hotchner or his boy?"_

_Emily didn't make a sound. She couldn't; silent sobs wracked her body now. "Please," she rasped, and it was clear she was irrevocably broken. "Don't make me do this."_

_"But Emily, love," he leered, "you said you'd do anything."_

_"Not this." Her voice was barely audible now. "I can't do this."_

_"You have to," Doyle said simply. "Besides, it wouldn't be the first time you've killed a man, now would it?"_

_"I love him."_

_"I know you do." His cold blue eyes never left hers. "Who dies, Emily?" he repeated unforgivingly._

_"Me. Please...kill me."_

_"If only life were that simple." Slowly and calmly, while never tearing his gaze from Emily, Doyle reached for his phone and pressed a single button, connecting him to his men._

_"If you have the shot, take it."_

_Emily had known it was coming, but as the words came from his chapped lips, she still felt as if she were being torn into two. _"You son of a bitch!" _she screamed, shutting her eyes as tightly as possible in a vain attempt to block out the outside world. "I hate you," she bit out. "I hate you so much __–__"_

"Open your eyes!" _he roared at her, his grip suddenly tightening around her neck. "You open your eyes and see what you've done! Don't you want to say goodbye?"_

_"Not like this!"_

_"Look, or so help me God, Emily Prentiss, I will kill you without a second of thought __–__"_

"Good."

_"__–__ and I won't rest until I wipe your entire family from this earth. _Look."

_She opened her eyes then; she had no other choice. She could do nothing but watch, mouthing a tearful _goodbye _and_ I love you _to the man who had long since captured her heart. She heard the gunshot._

_She watched Aaron Hotchner crumple to the cold and unforgiving concrete floor._

_"Kill me, Ian," she whispered, broken and practically lifeless herself. "If you ever loved me, please; I don't want to live in this world anymore."_

_"Sorry, love," Doyle said, closing the laptop finally. "I'm afraid I can only do one favor a day."_

_The weight of his words, his actions, bore down on her chest then, and she was sure death would be an easy and welcome friend. She wanted it now; she needed it._

_She needed an out._

_"They'll find you; my team will find you."_

_"Emily, sweet Emily." Doyle rose from his chair and strode away from her, heading for the door to leave her alone with her darkness. "You never learned. Who's to say I won't kill them next?"_

_Emily screamed._

And then she jolted awake – only to find that she wasn't alone.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Welp. What do you think? Intrigued? I'd love to know. Please leave a review if you have yet another moment to spare; it's very much appreciated!<strong>


	48. Lauren

**Author's Note: Here. Have some loving. (Well, not quite like that – yet.) Enjoy, you beautiful people! You all make the writing process so enjoyable and I am so grateful for your patience and dedication. The outpouring of support and feedback I received for the last chapter was an absolute dream; and now that classes have started up once more, it will be a little harder for me to respond to you all individually. But know that you all mean so much to me. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One! **

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><p>He knew something was off when he walked into work – and she wasn't there. She hadn't been there all day, Dave told him. She wasn't answering her phones, either. Her cell phone was off. Her landline went straight to an already full voicemail.<p>

Hotch paced his office for a good ten minutes, calling her non-stop as he tried to shake the sickening feeling that was settling deep in his gut. It was too late for her to have simply slept in; he didn't think she was hungover. He knew from firsthand experience that she knew just how magical a little Alka Seltzer and crackers – and a lot of water and Gatorade – could be.

So where was she?

Finally, he snapped. The thought threatened to do him in; he saw Emily reflected in his mind's eye, with her enchanting chocolate brown gaze, her sweet, creamy skin, her smiling cherry lips. To think that someone could be hurting her, making her suffer...

It killed him inside.

It was at that that Hotch knew what he had to do. Shrugging back on his dark wool overcoat, he didn't bother saying a word to any of his teammates, the curious band of five watching him from the bullpen; and without talking, or returning their gazes, he strode straight toward the elevator, with only one person on his mind. He was going to look for Emily; he would visit her brownstone and hope for the best.

He hoped and hoped for the entire drive to her place; but nothing could take away the sheer and absolute overwhelming fear he felt all the way in his bones when he parked his car and marched up to her door – and heard the screaming. _Emily's _unrelenting screaming. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms raised and it took everything he had to prevent from panicking. His worst nightmare was coming true.

Hotch didn't wait a second longer. Quickly and with experience backing his instinct, he drew his gun and held it at eye-level, his heart pounding against his rib cage. A steadying breath fell from his lips; right before he brought his leg up in a swift kick to bring down her front door.

He knew the layout of her home like the back of his hand, so it didn't take him but a couple frenzied moments before he had reached the room where her agonized screaming was coming from: her bedroom. Hotch had been ready for every sight imaginable as he ran into the intimate space – but nothing could have prepared him for the scene that was actually playing out before his eyes.

Emily was alone. There was no intruder in her brownstone; but there was one in her dreaming. She thrashed violently on her bed, tangling herself in sheets and screaming and _crying _when she couldn't free herself from their menacing hold of her limbs. It shattered Hotch's heart and had him frozen in place, panting as he supported himself against her doorframe for a second longer.

Tentatively, he took a step toward her. And another...and another, and before he knew it, he was lying in bed beside her, taking hold of her flailing arms and calling her name, desperately trying to bring her back to the present. Her thrashing simply brought her deeper into his embrace, and finally, when their foreheads were pressed against one another and their lips were oh so close – she woke.

He could see it in an instant – the fear and confusion and heartbreak written clearly across her fine features as she blinked and tried to process what she was seeing, what she was feeling. "Emily," he whispered, pulling back just barely, "you're safe." He felt his throat begin to tighten as he saw the tears welling in her pretty doe eyes. "You're safe, Emily, no one can hurt you anymore. It was just a nightmare."

She doesn't speak for the longest time, and when she does, it isn't even to ask him how he managed to enter her abode. There will be time for that question later, she supposes, when she doesn't feel like dying is the answer.

"It used to be my reality."

Hotch could do nothing but watch as Emily pushed herself up on her elbows, bringing them closer for a fleeting second before she placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, to bring her fully into a seating position. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Her eyes softened, then dulled. "There's an entire section of my past that you know nothing about, Aaron," she informed quietly, her voice chilling in the otherwise silent room. Nothing else could be heard, not even their breathing. "The nine years that we were apart – they were in no way easy, for reasons you can't even imagine." Her vision blurred. "The first year that I was in Connecticut was spent settling into my new home, my new school, my new job. I worked day in and day out; after the school year had ended, I came out on top with grades that would make even my parents proud. The second year provided much of the same. Internships, the whole lot. Except...the classes got harder. Recruiters from the Academy began circling like hawks."

Finally, her eyes met his. "When they got me a while later, it wasn't for the FBI. You know this much; the CIA expressed interest in my abilities. And so did Interpol. My knowledge of languages was something they couldn't pass up. I was the bright-eyed new kid on the block. Naïve. Sickeningly so."

"They didn't waste time in putting my skills to the test. They used something we don't. Something, looking back, I know I wasn't _emotionally _prepared for in the slightest."

Hotch threw all caution to the wind; gently, he reached for her hand. "Infiltration?" he guessed, and nothing could prevent the break in his voice as he tripped over the heavy word.

"Yes." Emily downcast her heavy-lidded gaze. "I was good at it. I jumped at the opportunity. After my graduation, that fact was made more than obvious. My years with Interpol – and later, JTF-12 – were filled with experience after experience, and while none of them were really _good_, I could deal with them. I could put every respective event in the little box that it belonged in, and I could breathe and _live _after a case was over."

"But?" The simple word came out on an unsteady exhalation. Hotch felt his heart wrench as Emily gave his hand a squeeze. He knew she was fighting to stay strong. He had never admired anyone more than he did her at that very moment.

"There was one that was...different from the others. Clyde even expressed his unease at the table-read; strange, the things you remember, right?" Her body trembled. "I don't know how much of the nightmare you witnessed. But that's what it was about." This time, it was she who shuddered out a sigh.

"His name was Ian Doyle. He was an arms dealer, ex-IRA." She swallowed thickly, and her trembling became more violent. "He wanted to marry me." To his credit, Hotch gave no sign of outwardly stiffening. Inwardly, however, he felt his heart stop. "I made him love a woman who he thought was me – and in reality, she wasn't exactly my polar opposite." Emily gasped for breath. "I questioned everything about myself. I nearly went insane; my own body was a prison. But once I had him comfortable, I broke him. He was sent to prison in North Korea. His son was made safe in a location very few of us know."

"But sometimes, I still feel like a prisoner in my own skin. He's secured now. He very rarely visits me anymore," she lied, averting her gaze to keep the truth away from the man who knew her so thoroughly. "He only does when I'm otherwise sleepless. When my thoughts won't leave me at peace at night."

"I'm...so sorry." Hotch knew she wasn't telling him everything. She was giving him the liberty to fill in the blanks for himself, a fact he was thankful for. He didn't want her to have to relive it any longer. Even a blind man would have been able to see just how shaken and disturbed she was.

"Don't be," Emily brushed off simply, folding her arms over her stomach and willing it to stop churning. "You've done nothing but help. You – you woke me up." The distance between them lessened by a hairsbreadth. "But enough about that. Why are you even here, Aaron?"

His answer was ready-made. He respected her wish to change the subject. Now it was his turn – and he had some owning up to do. "I was getting worried; no one could reach you and I just had this feeling that something was wrong." A beat passed. "I'll, uh – pay for the damage I did to your door, of course."

That caught Emily's attention. "'Damage'?" she questioned.

"I kind of...broke it down when I was trying to get in here," Hotch said sheepishly.

"So...I don't have a front door."

"...no."

Of its own volition, Emily's expression softened, and before she knew it, she quickly found herself struggling to bite back a laugh. "That's unfortunate."

"Yeah." His entire body became at ease when he saw the small smile Emily sent his way. "We'll get that taken care of. I'll call Home Depot or someone in a minute. But Emily – are you okay? Not just the nightmare. You – well, you look like hell."

"Thanks," she deadpanned.

Their hands were still together; Hotch twined their fingers a little tighter together. "You know what I mean," he said calmly, gently. He didn't want to pry. He just wanted to take her problems away and keep them from her for as long as he could.

"I do." Emily let out a weary little sigh. "I...had a bad night last night. After I left the gala, and Clyde had to leave for a case."

It wasn't a second before Hotch was back on high alert. "What happened? Is everything alright?" His skin prickled as she shook her head. He could hear the way her breath suddenly caught at the back of her throat, and it worried him beyond explanation. "Emily, please. Tell me what's wrong."

Silence.

"They know," Emily croaked finally. "They know about us, Aaron. They know everything."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: And the ball keeps on rolling. Buckle down, folks. It's going to be one interesting ride; but a rewarding one, too. Stay tuned: chapter forty-nine finally brings with it some much needed resolution. If you can, please leave a review; your feedback is unbelievably inspiring – and yes, rewarding as well. Much love.<strong>


	49. To the Moon and Back

**Author's Note: This is it – the chapter you've been waiting to read, and the one I had been wanting to write for so long. Now that I've wrung it out of myself, I find that I have very few words left...except that I really do hope you enjoy this, and that our wait is finally over. Much love to you all!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Hotch studied her carefully. "Who, Emily? Who knows?"<p>

His tone of voice surprised her. She has expected him to be urgent, confrontational, maybe guarded or even worried; not calm. The infuriating man was actually _curious._

She shook her head. "The girls. They know. I told them; I mean, not willingly." Her composure slackened. "They saw it – the kiss to your cheek. And then they had so many questions, and they remembered something I had told them a while back, when you and I had still been...together."

"They had asked about my boyfriend and why I was keeping him such a secret; and again, unwillingly, I let slip that he was – that you were – tall, dark, and handsome. They brushed it off in the way women typically do; but last night, at the gala, they remembered it and took me seriously. And it was like everything clicked into place for them."

"Breathe, Emily," he said concernedly, leaning forward slightly to peer at her; to urge her to raise her conflicted gaze. "You're rambling, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. The endearment came from his lips before he could process it, and he watched as something in Emily shifted at the term. But she didn't pull away. She breathed finally, a deep intake of oxygen that seemed to find and soothe every little crevice of her heart. "I know they mean well, and I love them to death. I know how they are, because I'm like that, too; especially when you add champagne in the mix. They just didn't seem to understand that their incessant questioning wasn't making me feel particularly good. I hadn't been feeling well at the time anyway, and by the team I was done yielding all the information I had – well, not all," she said cryptically, and similar wistful expressions crossed their faces, "by the team I was done, I...wanted to run."

"That's why you left." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

Hotch sighed, not because of the situation but because he could feel Emily's depletion radiating off of her in waves. "Emily...they were bound to find out sooner or later. All of them were." Tension sparked in the air. "Look at me," he whispered. When she wavered, he paused; then boldly reached out to cup her cheek.

She turned away from his touch.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," he said warmly, ignoring the pain her blatant rejection wrought through his body. "I know how they can be, too. We work with the sharpest profilers in the country. I'm just surprised they didn't find out sooner. At least it's not Strauss, you know?"

"They said they wouldn't tell anyone. Word of mouth can be..."

"Dangerous." It was meant as a joke, but the word fell flat. "That's not so bad, Emily," he said eventually, reflecting on her 'bad night' and hoping to calm her.

She swallowed thickly. "That's not even the half of it." Briefly, she wondered if she would be able to keep the rest of her night a secret from him; if the torture of knowing wouldn't wear down her body beyond repair. But again, she knew Hotch could read her with the utmost ease. He would be able to see the guilt in her eyes.

He already could. "What do you mean?"

"After Clyde left me at my place, I decided I wasn't ready to turn in for the night. I – I went to Finnegan's."

"Finnegan's, the bar down the street?"

Emily nodded, practically petrified already. "And...well, I saw Sean. Or rather, he saw me."

Immediately, Hotch's face lit up at the sound of his baby brother's name. "Really? Sean's in town? I had no idea, that's great," he gushed. "How is he?"

Emily was silent. And Hotch's face slowly fell. "Emily, uh..." She could see the reluctance written into every line of his face. "Wh-what did you two do?"

The tears were back in Emily's eyes, an omen that had Hotch knowing her answer would be nothing good. "I was drunk," she admitted. "He was, too. We talked for a bit, and then – he asked me to dance. And I didn't want to, but he insisted and then..." A single tear slipped down her ruddy cheek. "He kissed me. And I didn't know what was happening, I –" She crumpled, closing the minuscule distance between them. "I was so confused," she whispered.

Hotch closed his eyes, bit his bottom lip hard. "What else?"

"What? No, there was nothing else. I had the feeling it could have progressed to something more and somehow, logic overcame me and I was able to think through the haze, and –"

"Emily. Breathe." His voice was steady, patient. Kind.

She hung her head, and it was then that he could see the physical toll the last few months had taken on her body and wellness. "I pushed him away. I know he wouldn't have done that if he had been thinking clearly."

"That I wouldn't be so sure of. He knew you first; when we were dating, I'd always had my suspicions."

Emily ignored that. "It probably hurt his feelings. But I didn't want that. I couldn't do that to myself." Her teary gaze met his, and suddenly, she wanted nothing but the welcome weight of his whisper-soft touch on her cheek once more. "I couldn't do that to you." She didn't look ashamed as much as she did...grim. "Forgive me."

Hotch's mind was admittedly still reeling. It was a swift kick in his gut, one that told him unfailingly that it had been him to cause her so much pain, that it was because of him that she was so confused. It told him that he had come too close to losing all of his chances; and that terrified him. "Emily..."

"It's a lot to take in. I know." She didn't think she could bear to hear his response.

"That's not what I was going to say, nor is it what I'm thinking at the moment." Hotch was thinking ruining thoughts. She had been honest with him; now he had his sins to confess to her. He knew it was risky, that it would quite possibly cost him everything.

But he couldn't lie to her.

Emily looked as if she were putting up all defenses against the worst. There was no hoping for the best; she had very nearly given up. "What are you trying to tell me?" she asked quietly.

"I was going to ask if you'd...forgive me as well. I want – no, I need – to apologize. I know you said it's all I've been doing, so I won't say 'I'm sorry'; I'll just talk. I need to explain myself, to get this all out in the open. There are parts I don't want to tell you, but I can't lie to you. Not now, not anymore, not ever. It's not what you deserve. I'm not what you deserve." He ran a hand through his hair, watching as Emily's gaze followed the movement intently. "I've done several things in my life that I'm not proud of. This...this tops them all."

"It was after Milwaukee. After you got beaten over the head by a two-by-four and after the newspaper ran the article of the FBI sweeping in to save the day – the one that had our picture as the cover story. That case...did a number on all of us in different ways. By the time the jet had landed, all I wanted to do was head home, kiss Jack goodnight, and hope that sleep would keep the demons at bay." The tables had turned; now it was he that was skittish and ashamed. "Haley...had other plans." He saw the astuteness in Emily's gaze. He knew a retort was coming.

Her silence was, if possible, even worse. She was going to wait for him to spell it out for her.

It was hell.

"She makes 'manipulation' seem like a good word. I don't know what came over me when she – she –" _Damn it, Hotchner. Pull yourself together. _"She kept asking me to tell her ways that she would be able to help me get rid of my stress. All I wanted was sleep." A heavy beat passed. "And then she kissed me."

"You slept with her." Emily looked at him then, more than a little hurt, wishing she wasn't as perceptive as she really was. She hoped to God she was wrong; but Hotch didn't deny it.

"Yes."

_"Why?"_ It was the only thing she could imagine asking. One word that had so many answers. And none of them were good.

"I don't know," Hotch whispered, and the three words shot straight to her soul. She wanted to believe him; she really did, but God, it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. "I hated myself. I felt disgusting."

"I feel disgusted."

He would live to regret it, but the fact of the matter was, he really had trouble controlling his mouth in situations like this. "I called her Emily," he blurted.

Her wide-eyed gaze snapped up to his. "In what world does that make anything better, Aaron?" Emily snapped. She bit her bottom lip the moment the words came out. She tried to breathe, to calm herself, but it was as if revelation after revelation was working against her. "I'm sorry," she murmured, though she scowled down at her crossed legs. "Continue."

"I'm sorry," he countered, though he had promised not to say the words. "I wasn't a man. Not even close. The things I said to you, the things I did to you...I treated you like something less than the amazing woman you are, and that hurts me to think about now."

Being mad at the man was the most difficult task, and that infuriated Emily beyond belief. "Don't," she sighed, still not looking at him. "Seeing you hurt kills me inside." It was a painful and weakening admission, but it was the truth. And the truth was exactly what they needed.

"Funny; I was about to say the exact same thing."

Hotch got up from the bed then, and walked the length of her suitably decorated bedroom as he spoke. "We argued the other day. Yesterday. I mean...today." _Had it really been just that morning?_ "I finally told her I want nothing to do with her; I never have. She broke my back, manipulated me, used me – just like you warned me. And she quite possibly cost me my one shot at redemption in this life." _You._

"You could ask me why I thought getting back with Haley – even for Jack's sake only – was a good idea in the first place, and I wouldn't be able to give you an answer. Partially because I really just don't know. We're going back to our old custody agreement, and I'm never trying for anything more. I made it clear that she better not, either." He leaned against her doorframe for the second time that afternoon; but this time, he made an active effort to not look at her. "I got into this mess for all the wrong reasons; I said it was because of Jack, and it was, but it made me be able to ignore for a while the fact that I was nothing but a coward. I'll see Jack every minute I can now. That won't change. But...I was hoping this meant things would slowly be able to...fall back into place. Back to normal."

Emily leaned back in bed, curling away from his pacing figure and hiding her face in the pillow that smelled vaguely like his spicy, perfect cologne. "Normal...I don't even remember what normal feels like."

"I wish I could take everything back. I would if I could. Know that." There was something peculiar coloring his tone; surely it wasn't tears? But there was a telltale thickening of his voice as he continued on, and without looking – for Emily knew she would yield much too quickly for her own liking if she regarded him at that instant – she guessed it was tears.

She was right.

Finally, a weary sigh – Emily's hundredth in the last hour – escaped. "I kissed your brother." _Technically, he kissed me._ "You...had sex with your ex-wife." They both cringed; for not the first time since the night before, Emily felt her stomach churn unpleasantly. "While those two things are not exactly the same, it shows we've both done such stupid things, made such stupid mistakes, in our lives. And I don't want to put all the blame on one of us; on you. Granted, you did start this mess...and you didn't exactly make it better...no, you certainly didn't." She shook her head to get back on track. She had been trying to stretch out and offer an olive branch, albeit a delicate one. She would be fair; she would bend the rules for him. Why? She couldn't put a finger on it. But her heart wanted what it wanted. "But you're here. You're fighting. That says something."

"But does it say enough? Will anything ever be able to say enough?" he asked desperately.

"I don't think I know the answer to that question."

_"Please."_ It came out in a moan, and in a flash, Hotch was turning to her, rejoining her on the bed, his eyes begging, pleading. "Forgive me."

"Aaron, I want to. I really do. But there's a part of me that knows it's not that easy. I just...don't know how I'm supposed to pretend that none of this happened. To forget all about it." She ran a hand over her face, stopping her bottom lip from doing the pathetic little tremble she despised so much. _Olive branch, Emily. Olive branch. _"But...that being said...it's just so hard to be mad at you; to not be with you like we used to. I miss that so much."

"So do I." Everything was already on the line; if this was the end, Hotch wasn't going to say goodbye without one last touch of her perfect skin. So he reached out to cup her cheek; and this time, she didn't turn away. This time, blissfully, she leaned into his palm.

It gave Hotch the little burst of hope that he needed. "If you choose to pretend this conversation never happened...if you choose to not forgive me, I'll understand. I swear to you, I will. I don't deserve you, Emily Prentiss; I never have, and you've always deserved better. But I've missed you so much; and so help me God, I'll do everything in my power to get you back. Anything. It might not mean a lot, but you have my word."

_It means so much_, Emily wanted to say. But the words sat heavily on her tongue, refusing to be said. Again, she felt like a prisoner in her own skin; but this time, she knew of the person who would be able to set her free.

Heavy hearted, Hotch perceived her silence to be bruising finality. "You want to be left alone, don't you?" He remembered asking her the same question a month or two ago – when he had found her in his backyard, smoking a cigarette in the hopes that it would take her to a better place, somewhere far away.

"Yes," she said half-heartedly. Emily felt his weight shift the mattress; she watched as he turned to leave once more. For a moment, she wondered at how readily she had opened up to him about her past; about the things that scarred her both emotionally and irrevocably. She wondered if that meant she still retained a fraction of the trust they had created together. She wondered if there was any left.

Hotch's hand was on the doorknob when he remembered what he had failed to tell her at the very beginning. "The real reason I came here - or one of the real reasons: it's Monday. I wanted to take you out to lunch." His voice was hushed. "Remember?"

Her heart did a little flip. _Breathe, Emily. Breathe. _"I do," she said with a nod. "Aaron, that offer for lunch...or dinner...still stands," she informed nonchalantly, though her head was spinning as she hoped beyond hope he hadn't changed his mind. She tried her best for a tiny smile.

Hotch's relieved exhale was inaudible, but Emily rejoiced in the fact that she could see the stress leaving his shoulders already. "I'm glad to hear it. I'll have to take you up on it soon."

"Good." She waited for so long that she was sure he had already exited her brownstone. But finally, she leapt out of bed, peering around her door and into the main room; where sure enough, she found him loitering, hoping for an excuse to stay. "Wait. Aaron...don't go. Do you think you could stay?" She cursed the neediness that colored her voice. _The damned man._ "Until I get a replacement door, I mean," she made sure to add.

He smiled at that; really and truly smiled, and Emily couldn't help but let her lips curve to mirror his as well. "Of course." _For you, Emily? I'd walk to the moon and back. _

_I'd do anything._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong><strong>Thoughts? Questions? Suggestions? Please leave me a review, if you have an extra minute or two! I really can't wait to hear what you think; your feedback is indescribably valuable to me. Thank you so much for your continued support!<strong>****


	50. Take Two

**Author's Note: I don't know about you guys, but I've had a week that has completely redefined rough, and I thought we could all use a bit of light-heartedness and humor. I hope I can deliver on that with this chapter; this kind of resolution has been a long time coming, and while you can all bet I won't be rushing Hotch and Emily into anything too dramatic or serious just yet (believe me, she's not going to simply let him off that easily), I do think it's high time the tension between them abated - if not for just a moment or two. So, with that in mind, thank you all for reading, and I do pray you all will enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>"You don't have to cook lunch for me, you know. We could just as easily order in while we wait."<p>

Hotch smiled at that. "I know. What would you say if I told you I wanted to? Cook for you, that is."

"I'd say you're a stubborn ass," Emily said simply, smirking. They hadn't reached a formal conclusion to their previous conversation, nor had she officially accepted his apology. She was taking it all in stride, though. She would give him one more chance.

"Emily Prentiss, the jokester," Hotch murmured under his breath loudly enough for her to hear. "It takes one to know one," he tossed right back.

"One what? One stubborn ass or one jokester?" She could barely restrain her laughter.

"You're only proving my point. Now, what do we have here?" He peered interestedly into her pantry, then her refrigerator.

"I honestly don't know." The words came with a wistful sigh. "I haven't cooked in ages. I'll be surprised if you find anything fresh or workable." She stared at her granite countertops, making out a glimpse of her own shadowy reflection. "It's a shame really; the kitchen used to be the one place I felt at ease. Where I could let out my frustration and become sane again."

"'Used to be'?" Hotch noted.

"It's the shooting range now." Emily gave a little wry chuckle. "How the times have changed. Ironic, right?"

He held her gaze. "Not at all." They looked at each other for a while, as if only now seeing one another for the first time; then Hotch broke the spell. "You, uh, have a couple boxes of angel hair and a couple cans of tomato sauce. Oh, and some chopped basil in those little shaker things. You in the mood for spaghetti?"

"Spaghetti sounds fantastic." It was then that Emily realized how rumpled her appearance was. "Hey, I think I'm going to go freshen up, take a shower. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all."

"– and I can trust that you won't set my kitchen on fire? You've done enough damage to my place as is," she jabbed.

The mirth reflected in her eyes had Hotch's heart soaring. Nonetheless, he playfully rolled his eyes. "Just go and take your shower, Emily," he droned.

Her laughter could have been heard from miles away.

~.~.~

"This tastes amazing, Aaron."

They weren't seated at the dining table, nor were they settled into her couches. Instead they sat on Emily's hardwood floor with their legs folded at their sides as they leaned back against her new and sturdy door, bowls of spaghetti in their laps.

"Really?" He smiled at that, itching to move closer to that. "I'm glad to hear it. Of course, it's much simpler than anything you could have made but I figured -"

"It's delicious." Emily licked a spot of basil and something tangy from her top lip. "What did you put in the sauce?"

"Well, I realized about halfway into boiling the pasta that you had some lemons at the bottom of your refrigerator. So I squeezed a couple and whisked them in with the olive oil, then mixed that in with the tomato sauce, and some salt and pepper of course."

"And you served it with basil and..." she picked at something shaved and yellow, "lemon zest." Her eyes sparkled as she turned to face him. "I'm very impressed. And here I thought you were a self-proclaimed bad cook."

"Hey, I've learned a couple tricks in nine years," Hotch said, elbowing her in the side. "Give me some credit."

"Just a 'couple' tricks?" Again, she laughed as he regarded her with an unamused glare; it was as if all serious thoughts had gone right out the window, giving them their much-needed and much-deserved moment of peace. She pouted a little as he rose to his feet and moved out of sight. "Hey; you know I was kidding."

Hotch said nothing, just went back to her kitchen, smiling a little as he heard Emily shuffling about anxiously in the other room. He moved around the space with ease, not needing to ask her where the glasses were - or where the wine was either.

He emerged minutes later, two pristine glasses of expensive white wine in hand. A handsome smirk curved his lips. "You're lucky I'm a nice guy," he teased, motioning for her to take hers and drink.

Emily snorted. "Lucky, my ass," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes never left his, even over the rim of her glass; and after a comfortably silent moment, Emily sobered noticeably and pushed aside her empty plate. "Thank you for this," she said quietly, squaring her shoulders in his direction. "I really enjoyed it; the food and - and the company." It was something that was harder to admit than she had anticipated. After all, they were still on thin ice and they both knew it.

But having Hotch cook for her had been the cherry on top of a productive day. It had shone a light through the darkness that was her confusion. And she liked that. A lot.

Hotch took her in then: her still-damp hair, her bare feet with the plum purple toes, her worn yoga pants stretched over supple curves. Even without makeup - makeup that she had never needed in the first place -, she was easily the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Which was why it was so easy for his next words to break the silence between them. "Do you want to maybe...go somewhere?"

Her eyes were wide, curiously large. "Uh - where?"

He shook his head; an idea had entered his head and had no plans on leaving anytime soon. "Wherever you're in the mood to go. I think some fresh air would do us good, you know? Besides, I already called Dave. He knows not to expect either of us in for work today."

Emily cocked her head to the side. "I get the feeling you have a specific place in mind, though," she pressed, rising to her feet to grab their plates and set them in the sink. She didn't have to look behind her to know Hotch was following right behind her. "Do tell."

"Well, it's more like a suggestion, really; I mean, I don't really have a fully formed idea -"

"I can tell when you're lying, Aaron."

That made him chuckle. "You raise a good point." And then, suddenly, his nerves were back, and he began biting his bottom lip. "Do you remember, back when we were - when we were still together -, I had told you that I wanted to take you to a special place? Not the playground that we had been to before. But...somewhere else. You kept asking where, and I wouldn't tell you because I wanted to keep it as a surprise. But you asked for a hint, and I told you -"

"Cars," Emily said suddenly, as the memory came rushing back. "You told me the hint was cars." _I didn't forget. _

_She didn't forget._ "That's what I was thinking of, as an option of where we could go today. We could always do something else, maybe go grab a coffee - or if you want to go window-shopping."

"Aaron." Her lip twitched upward at the side. "Stop thinking that you have to constantly over-compensate." It struck a chord within him; of course she had been able to read him. "All of that can be done some other day. You've caught my attention now." She downcast her gaze, then finally peered at him through her long, previous damp lashes. "Take me to this special place you keep raving about."

Hotch almost couldn't believe his ears. At that very moment, he would have sung his praises to the heavens if it wouldn't have pushed Emily away. _Calm yourself, Hotchner. Calm._

So once again, he smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

~.~.~

Their drive wasn't even halfway over before Emily had it figured out. She kept silent about it until they had pulled into the lot; and her assumption was happily confirmed. "A drive-in movie?"

Hotch glanced over at her, unknowingly holding his breath, hoping she would be for the idea. "Yes. And guess which one."

They waited, and as the beginning credits began to roll, he was rewarded with a gasp of sudden realization – a happy one. "_Saving Private Ryan_," she said on a breath, and their eyes met. "Oh my God. That's the movie we watched wh-when we had gone out for lunch, and it started raining. Then you came over to my place and we put the VHS tape in and we..._watched_ it." She was instantly in a faraway place. They hadn't watched the movie at all, really. They had been more focused on each other; on hungrily claiming each other's lips and kissing the night away. It had been a dream.

Hotch kept quiet for a second, biting back a smile as he remembered the same blissful moment in their shared past. Then: "You know," he said nonchalantly, "I never did find out how it ended."

"Hey, now. You fell asleep," Emily reminded, though she knew that wasn't entirely what he meant.

"So did you," he retorted. "And you already had the movie memorized practically word for word. I, on the other hand, had never seen it before."

The blue of dusk wasn't dark enough to prevent Hotch from seeing Emily's telltale roll of her eyes. "Yeah, well," she laughed, "you're missing the beginning right now. So you might want to stop arguing, Hotchner," she taunted; and for a moment, it was like they had never left the comfortable vibe of being in love.

"Yeah, well," Hotch mimicked, his eyes crinkling, "I've already seen the beginning. And I remember it." There was a pause. "Vividly."

Emily gave a half-hearted scoff at that. "I bet you do." He looked at her, one eyebrow raised. She was able to keep a straight face for at least a little while, but not for much longer. They laughed at exactly the same time, the sound mixing together in a way that made everyone around them a little less troubled.

They watched the actors on the screen for a while, more than acutely aware of the other's presence just inches away. But there was something on Emily's mind, as a smile still curved her lips. "I haven't laughed like that in longer than I can remember," she said, staring straight ahead until she felt his gaze back on her. "It felt...good."

"It's good to see your smile." He licked his lips almost sheepishly, then gave her a roguish grin. "I'm glad that you're feeling at least a little bit better."

"A lot better," Emily corrected. "A drive-in movie," she sighed pleasantly. "It's a wonderful idea. I didn't even know this place existed. But you've been thinking about this for a while." She shifted a little. "Did it...live up to your expectations?"

"It did," Hotch said, immediately and earnestly. "You?"

"Yes. Of course, the movie is nowhere near over but...it's not the movie that this was all about." She blushed at that, wishing she could control the words coming from her mouth. Her heart beat just a titch quicker.

"No, it most certainly is not." It was then that the brunette pair realized just how close together they really were. One turn of their heads would have brought their lips together; and Emily found herself wanting that very much. So much she could barely understand it. She half wondered if this was the right thing, if feeling his breath against her skin would only confuse her more. But wisely, she pushed the insecurities far away.

So when Hotch stuttered out his next question, her answer was firm. Ready.

"Emily..." He reverently touched her smiling lips, and while it was clear he was hesitating for the obvious reasons, Emily instantly knew she knew what he was asking. "May I kiss you?" _Please_.

If possible, her smile grew wider, more brilliant. "Yes," she whispered.

And when their lips finally touched, that was exactly what the both of them were thinking: _Yes._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Well? What do y'all think? As always, I would love to know; your feedback makes me unbelievably happy. Let me know what I can go up improve! Thank you in advance. :)<strong>_  
><em>


	51. Sealed with a Kiss

**Author's Note: You know what made me feel so good about this chapter? The fact that, when writing it, I felt like I was writing a scene of Part One again – before their relationship just kind of fell apart. There's teasing, laughter, and yes...more kisses. It was thankfully and blissfully sweet again, and I really hope you enjoy that when reading. As always, you all make this experience so incredibly worth it, and I value your dedication and support day in and day out. Thank you!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer in Chapter One! **

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><p>They didn't talk about the kiss for the rest of the movie, but Hotch remained the slightest bit dizzy and Emily's skin remained blissfully flushed. Emily didn't realize she was doing it, but every once and a while, she would bring a hand up and gently touch her lips, almost as if she couldn't believe what had happened, what she had felt.<p>

Hotch particularly liked the unconscious action.

They drove back to Emily's brownstone in very comfortable silence, releasing little contented sighs here and there. Emily's screams still echoed in Hotch's ears, and neither of them had forgotten about the wounds that had been reopened by their conversation; but it was a small step in the right direction. They would get there – wherever _there_ was – soon enough.

It was when Hotch parked his car on the curb and got out, going around to Emily's side and opening her door for her, that she motioned vaguely in an upstairs direction. "Do you, uh, want to come up for a bit? We could finish that bottle of wine you opened at lunch."

He knew exactly what she meant by the proposition. Neither of them was foolish enough to jump back in and potentially ruin a good thing once more by rushing back to bed. The night had been good to them; it made perfect sense that Emily wouldn't want to be left alone.

So, gratefully and gladly, Hotch accepted her offer. "That sounds perfect. And maybe we could order in from that Thai place down the street?" _Your favorite._

She shot him a coyly amused look. "Jesus, Aaron, you're _already _hungry?"

He wasn't too impressed. "If I am?" he countered. "I am a growing man, Emily," he reminded, a mirthful expression reflected in his intriguingly dark eyes.

"'A growing man', huh? I guess you're right." She made a show of looking at him closely. "I see what you mean, I've noticed some grey hairs lately."

Hotch scowled at her, but it didn't have the desired effect since he couldn't prevent his lips from twitching into a half smile. "Why do you have to be so mean all the time?"

Emily gave a bright laugh at that. "I'm not mean," she answered simply, grabbing their bottle of white wine from earlier and pouring two fresh glasses.

He thanked her with his gaze as she handed him his glass, but his mouth had something different in mind. "Liar."

"It takes one to know one," she mimicked, covering her mouth as Hotch nearly began to choke on his first sip of wine. "Sorry, sorry," she said, patting his back before pressing her phone into his hand. "Here. Go ahead and order two of whatever you want."

Hotch looked at her drolly. "I thought you weren't hungry."

"And I thought you weren't a jerk." Emily grinned.

"Alright, fair enough." He didn't need to look at a menu or scour the restaurant's website for selections of what to eat. Rather, as he put the phone to his ear, he rattled off his usual and made sure to order two servings of the halibut with coconut-curry broth and a side of lettuce wraps with some spicy peanut sauce. He figured his choice of meal would pique Emily's interest, but he couldn't really see her face. She couldn't see his either, and it was probably a good thing, because his mouth went a little dry as he watched her kick off her low heels – heels that he had _really_ liked – and fold elegantly into a deep plum colored sofa.

Slowly, after hanging up the phone, Hotch came up behind the sofa, resting his elbows on the back of it and leaning forward so that their faces were perilously close to one another. He stayed there for a while, watching as she casually thumbed through her CD collection. "You in the mood for music?"

It was an obvious question, but Emily could suddenly think of nothing but how good his low, deep, and rumbling voice sounded in her ear. "Yes. But I don't know what kind."

All he wanted to do was bury his face in her fragrant hair and breathe her in, memorize her scent and ingrain it deep in his soul for years to come. His eyes fell shut for a moment. "Something slow."

A sly smile touched her lips. "For the second time tonight, it seems like you have something specific in mind."

"Maybe. If you have it." He flipped through the CD sleeves. "For some reason, I think you would."

"What song?" Emily craned her neck to see around Hotch's arm, but the frustrating man kept the coveted disk out of her sight.

"Here we go," Hotch murmured under his breath as he walked over to the CD player in the corner of the room, obviously pleased with his finding. He waited as the machine found the right track; and right as the song began to play, he pulled Emily out of the sofa and took her hands in his.

"Oh, I see," Emily said fondly, putting her wine glass aside and looping her arms around his strong and corded neck. "You want to dance." She closed her eyes contentedly as the beginning strains of Brian Hyland's "Sealed with a Kiss" began to fill the cozy enough room. "What happened, Aaron? On our first couple of dates, you didn't seem like the dancing type at all."

He gazed into her eyes for a little while, then looked away and hummed along to the tune he had first heard when his mother would sing him to sleep as a toddler. "I had a change of heart."

Carefully, Emily let her head come to rest on his shoulder. "You're not the only one," she whispered.

Together, they danced in synchrony, making very slow, subtle movements but feeling every single note in their hearts. Emily made a note to ask him later why he chose this specific song; somehow, she felt there was a story behind it. But for the meantime, she kept silent, not wanting to ruin the moment. She knew he was doing the same, keeping his mouth shut and internalizing his thoughts. She could just feel it.

Again, she spoke in a whisper, her breath tickling the sensitive shell of his ear. "I can hear you thinking. What's keeping your mind so busy?"

"You." He turned his head in her direction, bringing their foreheads together. "I can't get the image of you in that red dress out of my head. And your heels..."

Emily bit her lip then soothed it with her tongue, an action Hotch had been unable to enjoy for much too long. "You liked those?" she questioned, her tone once again coy. She knew he had a bit of a foot fetish; that and the fact that he was a bit of a breast man.

"I did." It took everything he had to not groan.

"I'm glad."

His heart thumped. Another sip of wine made him even giddier, braver. "You and Clyde –"

Again, she smiled. She had wondered when he would form the question. "– are just friends."

"God, you're so beautiful." They were reaching his favorite part of the song, where the instrumentals flourished right before the chorus, backed by the romantic and seemingly far away crooning of a mysteriously small choir; it just felt like the right thing to say.

Emily blushed, but her eyes flashed with something that had a trace of seduction rather than innocence. "And you are just trying to change the subject," she said against his cheek.

"No. I'm really not." His gaze moved from holding hers; to admiring her full lips; to moving back up again.

So Emily held him a little tighter. "Kiss me," she breathed.

"You're just trying to –"

She cut him off with a gentle but firm pressing of her lips to his. It was she who took the lead this time, initiating the kiss and letting it take them over as the song came to a close. It felt as if electricity, white-hot, was coursing through her veins, warming her inexplicably and making her unspeakably excited. She didn't want the embrace to ever stop; already the kiss had lasted for hours – had it really been only seconds? – but she still wanted more.

Reluctantly, Hotch pulled away for a steadying gasp of air, gladly diving back in when Emily's urging _"kiss me again"_ met his ears. She was fire in his hands, her curves pressed salaciously against his hard chest. He had wanted to hold her and touch her and have her like this for longer than he could process, and now that he had her...it was like a dream. She was every bit as dreamy as he had remembered. Her lips, full and rosy and so damn perfect, tasted like peaches and cream.

He wanted to feast on her and never forget that flavor.

Emily moaned a little as she drew back for air, her heart pounding ecstatically as Hotch's fingers twined in her hair and prompted her to close the distance once more. "One more kiss," she heard him pant in his ear, his lips moving from her jaw and her cheekbone back to her lips, fully intending to make them gorgeously swollen. She obliged more than a little willingly.

"One more," he growled again, holding her hips in his large palms and running his thumbs over the well-worn denim he found there.

"You already said that," Emily panted, her eyes sparkling with a beauty he missed seeing.

"But you're not objecting," he reminded, his lips moving once again - this time to sweetly kiss her temple.

"I guess you have a good point." She whispered out a moan against his lips found hers yet again. "Do – do you think we're rushing things?" she managed half-heartedly, her eyes bright and dancing.

"Yes, maybe a bit," Hotch murmured in her ear, nuzzling the shell. "But I think we've learned our lesson from before, haven't we?"

"I have."

"And I have as well."

"I'm glad to hear it." Her fingers danced across his cheek, running through his hair and scratching his scalp in a way she remembered he had liked. She had used to do it on their lazy afternoons, when they would lie in bed and do not much else but lounge around and kiss the day away.

They were ready to do just that when the doorbell rang. This time, Hotch was unable to suppress his groan, especially when Emily tugged at his hair and gave him a sweet smile. "Go on now, go get your food, Mr. Growing Man."

"What food?"

Together, they laughed. Together, they were set free.

~.~.~

"You really need to rest, Emily."

She looked at him lazily. They were close, so close to one another, but deliberately not letting skin touch skin. It was surely about to drive her insane. "You think I don't know that?"

His lips curved with something like a half-frown and a thin smile. "I admire how invulnerable you have made yourself," he said finally. "You've put up barriers, walls. You've put everything into it's own little box and moved on. But sometimes, when you're this organized, this compartmentalized, and something so terrible happens..." He bit his lip, looked away. "When something weakens you to the core and turns all of those precious boxes to dust, mixing everything together and creating chaos; you break. You shatter, and it's painful, and I–I don't want that to happen to you."

Emily's expression softened as she gazed at him further, memorizing every single new line she found on his forehead and around his eyes. A beat passed."Sometimes, I just want to be alone," she confessed. They had long since finished the wine; they had contemplated opening another bottle but decided it was better to be able to think and act clearly. Emily licked her lips idly. "Other times, when there's no one around me but me, I can…feel him. Back then, it was like he was a part of me. I was able to shrug off the feeling that I was being watched and go on with my life. But when things got so stressful and confusing that I could hardly breathe, it was like he was right there again. And it – it scared me." His eyes flashed to meet hers. "I don't get scared, Aaron."

She let him retake her hand in his, his coarsely padded thumbs making arcs on her smooth skin. "I know you don't. And again, I really admire that."

"Do you ever think that this job has made you jaded?" Emily blurted.

That made Hotch stop. For a while, he really thought about it, mulling the idea over and over, soul-searching to give her a truthful answer. "No," he managed. "But – but sometimes I think I was already jaded to begin with."

"That's not the truth."

"You don't know that."

Emily stared off into the distance, scanning her main room from their spot at the foot of her most comfortable couch. Their bare toes dug into the soft, clean carpet. It was nice. "I know that we both have ugly parts to our past. I know that we can thrive despite of them. That's something I've leaned lately. That's something you taught me."

He moved slightly, and Emily lolled her head to rest it on his broad shoulder. "I was about to say I learned that from you," he murmured.

She smiled a little at that, then closed her eyes. "Don't you have some place better to be?" Her voice was a whisper. "Is it not your night with Jack?"

"Haley has him until I move back into my old apartment." Finally, he did what he had been longing to do all day; what he had desired for ages. He turned just a titch to breathe in the intoxicating fragrance of her shampoo and left a kiss in her unruly hair. "And this – this is nice."

Her eyes still closed, Emily allowed herself to believe that nothing had ever brought them apart; that they were still the two young souls they had been years ago, still madly in love. Seconds of silence turned to minutes. Her breath caught in her throat as a question broke free and fell from her lips. "Do you think you could stay?" Her eyes widened a little when she felt Hotch draw back slightly. "I mean, not...like that." Her bottom lip trembled, though not from the need to cry. She was nervous, nervous about a lot of things. "I just can't get the nightmare out of my mind and I have this feeling in my gut that, the moment I close my eyes, I'll see him again."

It was a painful admission, and Hotch loved her even more for that. "I know that feeling."

"Do you?" Her response was instantaneous. "Do you know what it feels like to be in constant fear that you'll be hunted? Doyle had an army of henchmen; the only thing that makes me sure one of them won't come for me is the fact that I know Doyle would want to finish me off himself." Again, her eyes widened, and she shifted her gaze to their feet. She stared at her toes, thinking she would paint them powder blue next; thinking anything to keep her mind off the depressing weight sinking deep into the recesses of her shoulders. "I'm – sorry," she murmured.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he assured. A soothing smile touched his mouth. "Emily, I'll stay for as long as you want me to."

She had never felt gratitude so immense in her life. "Thank you," she breathed. "It's just," she worried away at her lip with her teeth, then soothed it with her tongue, "– you make me feel safe."

"You don't need to explain yourself." Hotch gave her hand a squeeze. "But the funny thing about that: you make me feel at home."

Emily wanted to hug him, to breathe in his cologne and let sleep take her over, for she knew nothing would hurt her in his presence. For a moment, she would be able to push aside the heartbreak. It was as if they had crossed miles in their relationship in just one day.

It gave her hope. It made her excited, and filled her with an energy she hadn't known for much too long. "Let's turn in for the night, Aaron. Shall we?" _Let's go to bed._

He willingly rose to his feet, smiling a little wider when Emily tugged him forward. "Lead the way, Emily."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: I wish I could say that, from this point on, there will be no more angst; but there will be more, in the next two chapters. Angst that quite possibly trumps the other issues that have been brought to the forefront in this story. But after that, I promise you it will be smooth sailing to their happily ever after. I'll make it worth it your time and the roller-coaster of emotions this has brought all of us on.<strong>

**As of now, I plan to have four more chapters and an epilogue. And then? We'll be done. I couldn't say thank you enough to those of you, old and new, who have stuck with me throughout various points in this literary journey of mine. I would sure love to know what you think about the chapter; after all, your feedback makes me so incredibly happy. Thank you in advance!**


	52. Walk Two Moons

**Author's Note: Um. Please don't hate me. There are three chapters left; and a happily ever after. I'll make it worth it, I promise you. We all deserve that much, wouldn't you say? ****As always, thank you so very much for reading!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p><em>"Don't judge a man until you've walked two moons in his moccasins. Until you've been in their shoes. In their place."<em>

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><p>When Hotch finally succumbed to sleep, his dreams were not nearly as terrifying as Emily's had been; but his was a nightmare he never wanted to experience again.<p>

_For a moment, they were happy. He had never known bliss this extreme; having nothing to do in the day save for worshipping Emily's body and holding her close, making her feel safe and him at home. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship, as it always had been. It was why they were such good partners in the field. There was a sense of trust Hotch knew he'd never have with anyone else. He was glad Emily still maintained that; he was the luckiest man alive._

_He saw her now, her bared curves pressed against his hard lines. She was so soft and yielding in his arms; she was pleasure the likes of which he had never before experienced._

_And she wanted a baby. She wanted his baby._

_But they weren't happy anymore. He heard her voice in his ear: "After Clyde left me at my place, I decided I wasn't ready to turn in for the night. I – I went to Finnegan's."_

_"Finnegan's, the bar down the street?"_

_Emily nodded, and there was something about her gaze that made a chill run down Hotch's spine. "And...well, I saw Sean. Or rather, he saw me."_

_Immediately, Hotch's face lit up at the sound of his baby brother's name; he didn't read into the way Emily cringed at the look on his face. "Really? Sean's in town? I had no idea, that's great," he gushed. "How is he?"_

_Emily was silent. Hotch's face slowly fell. "Emily, uh..." She could see the reluctance, the trepidation written into every line of his face. "Wh-what did you two do?"_

_The tears were back in Emily's eyes, so close to overflowing. "I was drunk," she admitted pathetically. "He was, too. We talked for a bit, and then – we danced some, even though I really didn't want to. But he insisted. And then – he walked me home." Tears finally slid down her ruddy cheeks. "He kissed me. And I didn't know what was happening, and it kept happening, and I kissed him back –" She hiccuped, shaking her head emphatically. "We slept together, Aaron."_

_They weren't happy. And Sean – Sean had demanded a paternity test._

_Sickness and fear crippled his body as they waited for the results. He was so deathly close to breaking down, to giving it all up, for he felt like a dead man when he thought that there was the slightest possibility that the beautiful life growing in Emily's body wasn't related to him in the way he – they – had dreamed. He wanted a daughter or another son; not a niece or a nephew._

_He knew what this was: sick and cruel punishment for the sins he had committed. He wanted it to be over with. He wanted to know the results. He needed to know who the father was. He needed –_

To wake up.

Hotch woke with a jolt, his breathing hard and uneven as fragmented images flashed before his eyes. Then he realized where he was. Emily's brownstone; Emily's bed.

He shifted his gaze slowly, like a gentle caress of her skin, and his breath caught in his throat as he looked at her – really looked at her. She was her most peaceful in sleep, he liked to think. The monsters wouldn't touch her there; not if he could help it. He wanted to run a finger down her smooth and pretty cheek; he wanted to kiss her lips for the hundredth time and lose himself in her essence like he had before his dream turned to a nightmare.

Like he had formerly done before his _life_ had turned into a nightmare.

But God, he didn't want to wake her. She had shifted at his troubled groaning, murmuring an incoherent _"Aaron"_ before falling back into sleep's impatient arms. Just hearing his name from her sweet lips had given him that much more strength.

He didn't want to wake her; but JJ had other plans.

Hotch cringed as the shrill ringing of his cell phone broke the precious silence that had blanketed them. He wanted to throw the phone away, run to another room to keep Emily at peace, but it didn't really matter; the brunette refused to budge.

Hotch padded into the hall and took the call, his voice inexplicably hushed as he told JJ he would be there as soon as he could. They were going to Texas and needed to leave promptly, but still, he couldn't bring himself to pull the beauty from her slumber. He stood at her side, watching her for a long moment, debating, before he finally gave in and crawled back under the sheets.

One hand gently brushed unruly curls – curls that were only intact from the night before because she had fallen asleep when her hair was damp – from Emily's face, before a kiss pressed itself to her temple. "Emily," he whispered. "Em, wake up."

"No."

He smiled at that, grinned really, and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "As much as I hate to remind you, it's Tuesday morning. We have work." He sighed down at his phone. "We have a case."

Emily curled her body a little tighter and covered her face with her coverlet. "Where?"

"Texas. I was hoping to ask Strauss for a stand down and I was actually sure she was going to grant us one; but B-Team was apparently busy. So we have to go." He smiled softly as Emily turned her head, peeking tinily over the plush of her white downy pillow. "Hi, there."

_Good morning, handsome._ "Hi." She blinked. "You had a nightmare." It wasn't a question.

"N–not really. Well, okay, I kind of did," he relented at her flat look.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He knew the question had been coming, and he knew his answer without hesitation. "No."

She looked at him carefully. "Okay. I won't pry." A beat passed, and Emily could feel his gaze on her as she stretched her arms above her head. "You know, I did some thinking before I went to bed last night. About...Doyle. And my nightmare. I didn't actually tell you what happened, did I?"

"You didn't." Suddenly, Hotch wasn't so sure he wanted to know.

Their eyes met, and Hotch found himself loving the way the early morning sunshine touched her sweet skin. "He killed you and made me watch," Emily blurted. She purposely left out the bit involving Jack; the look in his eyes was terrified enough. "And I know why. I took his son from him; I took from him the thing that mattered most in his life."

She said nothing more. He could fill in the blanks.

And he did.

His heart hurt his ribs as it beat wilder than it had ever before. "You were pregnant," he said suddenly, and he watched as Emily's eyes saddened. "We didn't – we didn't know if the baby was mine or – or Sean's."

Emily's breath caught; she very nearly choked. His reason for it being a nightmare did not need any explanation. "Did you ever find out in the end?"

"No." The word was said to her back, as Emily swung her legs off the bed and made for the large bathroom. She needed a mirror; she needed to freshen up and clear her mind.

When a door was between the two of them, the barrier thick enough, Emily whispered something for her ears only. "I'm sure the baby was yours." After all, he had the stronger genes – and the love to back them.

Alone in the bedroom, Hotch laid back against Emily's sheets and stared the ceiling, licking his uncomfortably dry lips. The nightmare had left a bad taste in his mouth, one he guessed would stay for the entire day. If he read too much into it, he would have even considered it to be a bad omen for the hours to come.

But instead, he pushed the thoughts away.

~.~.~

It was a mistake, brushing off the omen that came with the nightmare as nothing. It was a mistake, and it was the first of many that the day – the case – would entail.

"Prentiss, there is absolutely no way you are going in there alone _without a vest_." His voice boomed and echoed throughout the tension-filled silence.

Her glare was harsh and borderline impatient; he could feel her gaze like a touch on his skin, and it wasn't nearly as pleasant as it had once been. "Hotch, are you actually telling me that a believed suspect would open up the door to you, Rossi, or Morgan, big tough men with flack jackets that scream FBI - literally - and just let you waltz on in to arrest him? He's not stupid. We know he's going to run, but not before bullets rain down on everyone. I look the least suspicious," she urged.

"I could go instead."

Emily whirled around, eyes wide as she looked at Reid. "No way, Spencer," she said, and it was obvious she was concerned for him. As experienced as he had proved himself to be, he was still so young in her – their – eyes. They would watch over him at all cost; Hotch had once recounted to her an instant that involved wild dogs, Dilaudid, and the Archangel Gabriel, and Emily didn't want to run the risk of anything remotely near that happening again.

"Why not?" Both Reid and Hotch asked the question, and Emily could just shake her head until Hotch pulled her aside. "Emily," he said hushedly, "if you don't listen to anything else, just listen to this. I have a bad feeling about this case; I have since the morning, and I haven't been able to shake it off. Please – let Reid go this time." _It's always you playing hero. It's always you as the bait. _

_It's always you getting hurt._

But Emily was stubborn, a fact Hotch figured would never change with time. "No, Aar – Hotch. I can't." She glanced cautiously over at the team, her eyes narrowing imperceptibly when she saw them all look away. "Don't make this personal," she whispered. "Don't let whatever we did last night cloud your judgment."

He looked hurt that she had considered the fact in the first place. "I'm not," he insisted, and while his voice was softer, it also had a bit more bite. He licked his lips, then breathed out a sigh. "At least let Reid go in with you."

"You wouldn't be making this same decision if it were Rossi going in," she pointed out simply.

"No," Hotch conceded. "I wouldn't be." He saw the look in her eyes and frowned. "You're judging me, aren't you? I can feel it. I can see it." _You don't know how conflicted I'm feeling right now, _he wanted to scream_. _She didn't know what it was like to make executive decisions like this; she didn't know what it felt like to walk in his shoes. And he wasn't sure he ever wanted her to have to 's gaze was steady. "You know it has nothing to do with how good or experienced an agent you are. You're one of the best I know, Emily. But I –"

"But what?" Emily pressed. Finally, she broke. "Fine," she huffed, though her gaze expressed she wasn't really as frustrated with him as she had come across. "I know you won't change your mind. You've always been stubborn like that."

"It takes one to know one," he whispered, and his frantic heartbeat slowed just a titch when he saw Emily's lip curve just the slightest bit upward. He wanted to kiss her so desperately in that one moment. He needed to hold her and keep her safe even though he knew he really didn't _need _to; Emily was more than able to take care of herself. She had proven that much more than enough times to count. "Alright," he announced, walking back to his other three agents. "Reid, you're going in with Prentiss. Both – both of you take off your vests," he stuttered, the sickened feeling back in the bottom of his stomach, "and you know how to signal if anything goes wrong. Get out of there as soon as possible."

They nodded swiftly, and just like that, wandered out of sight and into dangerous territory. Hotch didn't like playing with fire like this, not one bit. But the job was the job. And the job hurt more often than it soothed.

They would learn that much too soon.

~.~.~

With every second that passed, with every heartbeat that quickened or ominously slowed, details of the case came flooding to the front of Hotch's mind, but even then he wasn't really thinking about them as clearly as he could or should have been. _Serial power-reassurance rapist, obsessive-compulsive, preference for brunettes, submissive, even cowardly;_ the profile meant nothing at the moment. Nothing was even of the slightest importance anymore. Nothing but Emily.

As a Unit Chief, Hotch was getting really tired of having something like this happen; having the lives of one or more of his agents hanging in the balance, being jeopardized, because of his executive decision. It was too much to contemplate, too much to consider. He wanted to scream.

As a team mate, Hotch felt anxiety creep under his skin as he waited for a sign from two of his most brilliant agents. There was something off about the entire situation, something so perilously off-kilter; he wished he could have sent himself in in their place. Prentiss had had a point, though; one look at him and anyone could have guessed he was some sort of federal agent. It was too suspicious, and they had made enough risks as it was.

As one of Spencer and Emily's most trusted friends, their present situation put Hotch in a state of mind beyond worry. The silence was numbing. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he heard raised voices coming from the back of the house, just inches away from where he was crouched in wait. It wasn't Emily's or Spencer's voices that he heard; it was their unsub's, and it cut through flesh to shock bone. It was chilling. It was reminiscent to deadly.

As Emily's lover – or whatever he was now, Hotch didn't care at the moment, he couldn't _think_ at the moment – he was petrified. The screaming blending in with Reid's then Emily's shouted orders was the last straw; he motioned the others in and silently, with SWAT following them like ghosts, they ran to her; and Reid, he mustn't forget about Reid. He ran to her, never knowing adrenaline like this. It was filling his veins, nearly overflowing. As he broke down the door, Hotch realized he was dangerously on edge –

And when Hotch heard the first gunshot, and saw his love's body fall in an arc to the cold, unforgiving floor, all he could do was scream.

_"Emily!"_

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Welp. Reviews are love. The last of the Kiss the Cook cliffhangers...and it trumps all others. Please - take a moment to tell me what you think, even if you haven't before. No matter short or long, signed or anonymous; your feedback, comments, and suggestions are just the inspiration and motivation I need to finish this story. You all have supported me through this endeavor and I'm so very grateful. Thank you in advance!<strong>


	53. Crescendo

**Author's Note: I'm honestly surprised I haven't been killed in my sleep by angry, passionate fans. That being said, thank you so much for your overwhelming support and feedback. As you all know, this story is coming to a close with only two more chapters (and an epilogue?) left in store; and rest assured, it will be smooth, sweet sailing for here on out. I think you'll enjoy this installment - and I just know you'll love the next one. Maybe I should post it on Valentine's Day. Would that be indicative of what the chapter contains? ;)**

**Anyway, thank you dearly for your time. Enjoy, my loves!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p><em>"Emily!"<em>

Hotch didn't wait a single second to observe what was happening around him; he didn't see their unsub fall to the ground dead, nor did he hear anyone else's screams over the sudden ringing in his ears.

Only Emily's. He skidded to a stop at her side, dropping to his knees and clutching her hands in his as she gasped in a way that had him unbelievably terrified. "Emily," he breathed, eyes frantic. "Emily, look at me." The plea met her ears; but it just hurt so much to meet his gaze. A groan was torn from the back of her throat as he put pressure on her chest wound. It was almost as if she could feel the bullet embedded in her heart, burning through layers of skin, causing a mind-numbing prickling at the edges of her consciousness.

And the blood. It seeped and marred her precious skin. And as she lay sprawled out on the unforgiving floor, Emily realized just how scared she was. Scared, and suddenly so weak.

"Aaron." His name came out in a rasp, and she winced at how coarsely the sound fell upon her ears. "Aaron –"

"Emily, please hold on. An ambulance is on its way. Please." The guilt crushed his lungs and made it impossible to breathe. If only he hadn't let her go, if only he had made someone else go in her place – she would have been pissed, but she wouldn't have been like _this._

Pain lashed at her, blinding her, crippling her. A chill began settling over her. "Aaron, if I don't make it –"

_"Don't say that. _Don't you dare." His order came out with a bruising sob. He hadn't even realized he was crying. "You're going to be absolutely fine. The EMTs are coming and we'll get you out of here, and –"

"Please shut up and let me talk." Her urging was rough, but her tone of voice, the look in her eyes – it was frighteningly soft and thready. Hotch squeezed her hand, but still tears burned his eyes; there was just _so_ much blood. Thick, dark red, it tainted the air with the biting smell of rust, so heady he could taste it on his lips.

"I'm sorry," he mouthed; and it was like everyone had left them alone for this moment. No one else existed in their private world.

"I need you to know," Emily gasped out, biting her bottom lip hard when the pain doubled, then doubled again. "Aaron..._oh_," she shook her head, her hair clumping together and fanning out on the cold tile floor – white tiles that would likely forever be stained pink. "I need to tell you."

"Tell me what?" _Please hold on; I need you, Emily. I can't let you go._

For a long moment, she didn't – couldn't – answer, and Hotch didn't know how to move or function. Then her voice broke through once more, quieter than it had ever been. "You've been..._oh, God help me. _You've been a real ass to me, Aaron Hotchner." Her lips quivered; her fingers trembled. "But somehow, when I do...some soul-searching, my answer is...always the same." She could see the look on his face, the way he apologized so earnestly with his handsome eyes.

She wondered briefly if that would be the last thing she ever saw.

"And then I realize –" Emily began to choke a little. Tears of her own wet her paling cheeks. Their gazes smoldered when they met with finality. She shuddered as Hotch brought her hands to his lips in a prayer and a kiss.

"I realize I never stopped loving you."

The admission was strikingly clear; and when she fisted a shaking hand in his shirt and tugged him down for what she was sure would be their last kiss, when she heard – no, felt – him whisper a teary _"I love you so much more" _against her skin, against her lips as she tasted him once more...she found herself just the slightest bit more prepared for the blackness that swallowed her whole.

Emily didn't hear the screams of her lover, nor did she see him roar at the EMTs to let him ride with her in the ambulance. She didn't know he never once let go of her hand.

She didn't know – for her heart didn't beat.

~.~.~

Aaron Hotchner was a ghost. He wandered the hospital with something like a heavy emptiness in his chest. It was like he had lost a part of himself – his soul. He weaved through one hall, then another, never realizing until much too late that her blood had dyed his dress shirt an unsightly red. It was everywhere on his body, under his skin and on his face and –

Suddenly worn to the bone, Hotch slumped against a wall far from everyone else but close enough to Emily, and sunk to the ground, his head in his hands. He had never been this way before; so sickened with worry, so uncomfortable in his own body. He had heard the things his team had begun to whisper; spot-on musings regarding him and Emily. They were certain now, certain that the two had done more than simply "know one another" before Emily's joining the Bureau. There was so much more. And suddenly, they knew it all.

Surprisingly, Hotch didn't mind one bit. He knew he would have to explain himself someday, but at the moment, he much preferred letting Rossi take matters into his own hands. After all, it wasn't as if they had really been discreet; the kisses, the touching, the tears – and Hotch's roar of, _"You have to let me go with her, she's my fiancée."_ So what if it had been a little lie? He wasn't about to let himself be separated from Emily, not even for the short duration of the ambulance ride.

Hotch let out an audible groan, and the tears threatened to spill for a second time. He needed her to be okay; he would give or do anything. She didn't deserve to be the one who was always caught in the crossfires.

She didn't deserve torment like this.

And if they were on the subject of who deserved what, Hotch knew Emily deserved a man so much better than himself; _Clyde Easter maybe,_ a disgusting voice piped up in the back of his mind. All this he knew. But he also knew he would fight to keep her. He would –

In his pocket, his phone buzzed then; and though he knew the hospital personnel wouldn't particularly appreciate him taking the call, he didn't give it much thought. How could he, when forming coherent thoughts had become such an impossibility? When all he could hear was Emily confessing her love for him, right before her breathing stopped?

Instead, he accepted the call without even looking at the caller ID; though it wouldn't have mattered if he had, for he wouldn't have recognized the number – or its New York area code.

"Hotchner."

A beat passed, then there was the obviously anxious clearing of a throat. "Hey, big brother."

Hotch froze. He wasn't sure Sean was something he could deal with at the moment – or really ever, but he would have to address him someday, he supposed. Conflict resolution seemed to be the recurring theme of his life as of late. "Sean," he greeted, then grimaced at the almost pathetically weary tone of his voice. _Please, Emily. Please be okay._

"Em–Emily told me you were in town the other day." Despite the forced conversational tone, his mouth was suddenly so dry, saying her name, having it rest like a stranger on his tongue when he wasn't sure _when_ he would be able to see her next – it was a pain he had never known.

Naturally, Sean was oblivious to his older brother's inner torment. He had not the slightest clue as to the hell that had manifested on the other line. "Yeah, I was. I was really disappointed that I couldn't stay for long; I was just passing through, and I really wanted to see you. But your phone was off the entire night. Apparently you were at a gala?" Closing his eyes for a bit, Sean began to pick at his nails. He would be lying if he said Hotch didn't intimidate him. There was no denying the fact that he had fucked up. And in this particular situation? Well, the possibilities were plenty and none were especially good.

For a long moment, Hotch was silent, having forgotten he was on the phone. Once again, there was her voice, haunting him: _"I never stopped loving you. I never stopped loving you. I never stopped loving you."_

"Aaron?"

"Hmmm?" He blinked. "Oh. Yeah, there was a Bureau gala that night." _God, please. I know I haven't prayed in a while but please let her be okay. Give me her suffering instead. She needs to heal._

"...Aaron, are you okay?" There was just something about him that was strangely off. "You sound distracted. Do you want me to call back later?"

_Yes. _"No." Hotch pinched his brow hard. There was too much swimming through his mind at the moment; he was going to break, he just knew it. "Sean, we – we need to have this conversation."

Sean swallowed thickly. And there it was: his nightmare becoming a reality. "Yes, that's...actually why I called. I – how much else did Emily tell you about that night?" The question was tentative and yes, even a little bit scared.

It was a struggle for Hotch to keep his sanity in check. He didn't want to play any games like these with his brother. He wanted cold, hard facts. "She told me you kissed her."

Though he knew he deserved it, Sean was instantly sick to his stomach. Hotch's voice was indecipherable; he cursed profilers for always being unreadable. "Aaron...I've never regretted anything more in my entire life. It was a mistake. It was irresponsible, inconsiderate, and wrong. And I'm...really very sorry."

Hotch's jaw ticked a little at that. He believed his brother was being genuinely apologetic, but it just wasn't that easy. Then, for a second, he stiffened.

_This must be what Emily felt like. _

Yet again, he was assaulted with a pang of guilt – and love that Emily had blessed him with one last chance. He would prove to her that a simple 'I'm sorry' wasn't all he had in store. He would make everything up to her. He just needed time. "I love her, Sean. And you knew that."

"And she loves you, too. You're right, I do know that. And at the risk of sounding defensive, I know you're going to see this as some sort of cop-out, but I really wouldn't have done this if I hadn't been drunk. I wouldn't have been so selfish. I saw and understood how confused she was, how conflicted she seemed. That's it. I agree, I took things way too far; but I wouldn't have if I had been thinking straight."

Hotch's frown deepened; and this time, it was his turn to ask the question. "What did she tell you?"

Sean paused, choosing his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke his brother even more. "She told me you had gotten back with Haley for a while."

Hotch cringed, then peered down the hallway to distract himself. When would they receive word of Emily's condition? He needed to know. "That was a lapse of judgment," he said curtly. "We've talked about it. I still have a lot of groveling to do, and you can bet I will willingly give her everything I have in me in the process, but I want to say things will heal with time."

"I hope so. You two were so good for each other; I'm sure that hasn't changed." A beat passed. "Listen, Aaron. Please…take care of her. Take care of her so you can take care of yourself. I know she means a lot to you. And I really am so sorry."

It was then that Hotch finally crumpled. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn, one he didn't particularly like; and now all he could think of was how he had failed miserably at doing just that – taking care of Emily. "I'm at the hospital right now, Sean." His voice broke.

"You're _what_?"

"I couldn't protect her." Footsteps came racing down the hall then, and Hotch was on his feet in a heartbeat, anticipation written clearly across his features. He couldn't possibly 'prepare himself for the worst', lest he truly go insane. "She's been in surgery for hours, and one of the doctors is coming out right now. I need to know – I have to go."

"Wh– Aaron–" Sean sputtered, obviously floored. "Call me when you have the chance."

"I will." _Please God, let there be good news. _

When the surgeon rounded the corner, an unreadable expression on his face, there was a brief moment when Hotch's heart plummeted to his stomach, when he wanted to give up – but only before those faithful words met his desperate ears.

_"She's going to be okay, Mr. Hotchner." _

He felt his knees go uncharacteristically weak; and when the other man reached out to steady him and began to explain Emily's situation, everything became a blur. A whirlwind of words telling him of a nicked lung, flatlining, bleeding that wouldn't stop, more scars to litter her always beautiful skin – it was all too much. He just wanted to see her, the love of his life. At the moment, he was but the shell of a living man. He would only be fully brought back to life once he could see his Emily for himself.

"Take me to see her."

~.~.~

He didn't mind in the slightest when he entered Emily's room and found her fast asleep. It was a comforting enough sight, though the wires, tubes, and IVs she was hooked up to made his heart wrench. A glance at the clock on the far wall told him it was two in the morning; and Emily needed her rest. She arguably deserved it more then than all of them combined.

The team had been respectably silent when he had passed them on his way to see her. She was only allowed one visitor at a time, and somehow, it had gone without saying that Hotch would be that one. Hours ago, he had urged the others to go home, promising them he would contact them when there was any bit of news, but they hadn't listened – and Hotch couldn't bring himself to be surprised. Only grateful. He wasn't thinking about them anymore, though.

He had eyes for only her.

It was with the utmost care that Hotch sunk into a chair beside her uncomfortably sterile bed. He drank her in then; the steady but shallow rise and fall of her chest, the new, more pronounced paleness in her face, the thin line of her lips. He knew from experience that she was both a fighter and a winner. But at that very moment, she looked like the most delicate and fragile of porcelain dolls.

He didn't want to break her.

So instead, he whispered his love of her in her ear, leaning close and linking their fingers together, needing that tiniest bit of connection to be able to live again. He reveled in the sight of her heartbeat monitor, for it showed him how strong she was. Every new beat filled him with that much more hope and faith.

"I believe in you, sweetheart," Hotch crooned, dropping a kiss in her hair. His exhaustion didn't register as he took what had to have been a full hour to gently caress her face with the touch of only a lover; any and all traces of somnolence disappeared the moment he saw her eyes flutter slightly. His breath caught at the back of his throat.

It took a millenium, but Emily did stir at his touch, whimpering a little as the bright hospital room lighting filtered in through her closed eyelids. When their eyes locked on one another, seeing each other as if for the first time, it took everything Hotch – and Emily – had to prevent from breaking down. _Thank you, God._

Emily's fingers twitched as she stared at him for the longest of minutes. And then: "You're here," she croaked. Her mouth ached from the breathing tube the doctors had previously removed, but it was an annoyance she could easily disregard, especially with Hotch so close.

"I told you I'd never leave you." He gave her an achingly sweet smile.

"I told you that, too." Her gaze dropped to his lips; impossibly long lashes shrouded the pained expression in her eyes. "But for a second there, I thought I was going to have to break my promise."

Her whispering jolted him right down to the core. "I wasn't about to let you." Hotch willingly let her pull him closer. "I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again."

Even through the pain, he was able to make her lips curve into a slight albeit very tired smile. "So that's how this is going to be, then? With you being stubborn and entirely over-protective?" A shaking hand moved to his face, tracing the contours lightly but with a desperation that made him want to kiss her and never stop.

He moved his mouth to the inside curve of her wrist, finding the pulse point and reverently pressing his lips there. "Of course. Do you know me any other way?"

She bit her bottom lip, and her smile widened. "No, I suppose I don't." The teasing calmed her, made it possible for her to block out her surroundings and focus on just herself and the man in front of her. The man she loved and always had. "Speaking of which, I had a nurse tell me earlier that one of the doctors told her my fiancé bullied his way into the ambulance so he could stay with me." She raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea we were engaged."

Hotch laughed a little, and the sound soothed Emily's soul in a way she had missed for much too long. "About that. I, well, tried telling them I was your Unit Chief and that I should be allowed to ride with you so I knew how my agent was faring. They didn't seem to care. So apparently being your fiancé trumps being your boss."

"Seems like a logical conclusion." Her words slurred together a bit, and she wet her lips with her tongue, thanking Hotch with her eyes when he held a cup of water – just what she had been wanting – to her lips. Her mind particularly liked playing around with that idea; the idea of her in white with his ring on her finger. Once again, she found herself being inexplicably calmed.

Then she was struck with a sudden realization. "I guess they know about us now."

Hotch watched as she lolled her head to the side, burrowing back further into the pillow. "I guess they do."

A curious expression danced about with a sparkle in those beautiful eyes that would thankfully never dull. "You don't seem to be too worried."

He remembered the way his heart had beaten a terrible tattoo against his chest; he thanked his lucky stars that was the past. He would make sure they had so many things to look forward to – a happily ever after, if she would give him that blessing. A shuddery sigh left his lips. "I thought I was going to lose you. It's the least of my worries. Are you? Worried, I mean."

"Not at all." Emily closed her eyes, her lips curving a little more. She shifted in the bed then, wordlessly moving to make room so that he could lie down beside her. She wanted to be able to lean back against the sturdy wall of his chest, to feel his arms around her waist…

Overjoyed didn't seem to be a good enough word to describe Emily when Hotch instinctively understood her intentions. No more than a few seconds had passed before they were snugly sharing the bed, bodies aligned nearly perfectly. Her chest still ached and she figured it would for a while; but having him so _close_ made everything better.

It was when she had successfully buried her face in the crook of his neck that Emily finally broke the silence. "I'm sorry for giving you a scare," she whispered against his skin. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Hey." He thumbed her chin, bringing their lips delightfully closer. "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for. I just want you to be safe and sound, that's all." He was still such a gentleman; it filled her with the overwhelming urge to say those three words again, but she kept quiet for a little while longer.

Hotch, however, had no qualms. Pressing his forehead against hers, he muttered, "I'm just so glad you're okay. I don't know what I would've done if –" Her lips found the corner of his mouth then, and his eyes fell shut. "I love you, Emily."

"I heard you." Her voice was nearly inaudible. "When I was on the floor, bleeding out…" She shuddered when he turned his head, making it so that their lips met blissfully. "I heard you and it gave me all the strength I needed."

"You amaze me." Their kiss was sweet, delightful, perfect. He wanted to do nothing but worship her and nurse her back to health. He knew Emily Prentiss needed no protection; but he wanted so desperately to support her – to never leave her side.

Their kiss deepened, and Emily let out a little moan. "I love you, too, you know." She closed her eyes once more, masking a yawn. "So much." _Too much._

"I know, Em." His kiss landed on her temple this time. "Now go back to sleep," he crooned. "I know you're tired."

Emily flushed a little, disappointed that he had seen her yawn. She wanted to stay up with him so badly…but sadly, she knew he was right. She was weary; their conversing would be much more productive in the morning. "I'll sleep if you promise me you won't stay here all night. You've got to be tired. That same nurse that let slip about my 'fiancé' – she told me you've been here, on high alert, since I was admitted. That's around seven hours, Aaron. _Sleep._"

"I don't think I can make you that promise." His fingers smoothed the skin of her cheek. "I'm never letting you out of my sight, remember?"

His quiet laughter made her smile, and slowly lulled her to sleep. "Right, you're stubborn and over-protective. How could I forget?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Reviews are love, and you all are the absolute best. Please leave one, if you have the time; even if you've never before! I'd love to hear from you, no matter short or long, signed or anonymous. And really...thank you for absolutely everything. Two more chapters left. Let's do this.<strong>


	54. Sweeter than Heaven, Hotter than Hell

**Author's Note: It took me a terribly long time to finish this chapter. But it's nearing seven thousand words, so I hope you'll find that the wait was worth it. And speaking of having to wait – there's only one more chapter left. Just the thought of bringing this story to an end gives me goosebumps for a myriad of reasons, but I'm inexplicably excited to write something new. At the same time, I am so incredibly grateful for the amazing audience I've garnered over the course of this emotional roller-coaster. I'm so blessed. I will undoubtedly miss this universe, but hopefully I'll be able to create an entirely new one that you all will find just as fascinating.**

**Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this penultimate installment. Thank you, as always, for reading and reviewing! And yes, just as you all have been hoping for, the latter portion of this chapter is rated M. Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

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><p>Emily awoke to the sound of subdued – but still high pitched – mumbling. She had been on the verge of waking for moments, but the desire to keep sleeping was one that was much too good to pass up. Now, however, she was curious as to who was sharing the room with her; though she could guess easily enough.<p>

The fawning began the moment she opened her eyes. "Emily," JJ breathed, exhaling a sigh of undisguisable relief as Garcia immediately scooted her chair closer to the edge of the bed. "Oh, thank God. The doctors say you're doing much better; how are you feeling?"

Emily managed a small smile, allowing them to carefully pull her into a much-needed hug. "I'm alright, girls," she assured, her eyes crinkling at the corners as both blondes gazed at her as if they had been separated for years. She could imagine the pain and fear they had gone through when they had first heard of her injury; she had felt the same pressure crushing her chest a million times, both in this job and the many she'd had before her BAU days. It was never particularly friendly, but it reminded them that they were alive; and that was all that counted in the end.

She took Garcia's hand in hers first, then gave JJ's a squeeze. "Really."

Garcia mustered something like a watery smile. "I see you've already been through the gift basket." She motioned with lavender-tipped fingers to the cellophane-covered basket on the bedside table, surrounded by bouquets of flowers from friends and family – and people Emily barely came into contact with in the office. "You liked it?"

To answer her, and to take the anxious expression off of JJ's face, Emily stuck her legs out from beneath the hospital blanket and wiggled her toes. Keeping her feet warm was a pair of fuzzy yellow and pink striped aloe-infused socks. "You bet I do." She looked from one of her best friends to the other, her smile only widening. "Thank you. And the chocolates...those were good, too." A beat passed, and her eyes fell closed. "Aaron liked the dark raspberry ones."

It was the exact prompt JJ had been wanting. She couldn't help but feel guilty once more as she leaned in closer to the brunette – the brunette that was still hooked up to a nearby IV. "About that," she said tinily. "About...Hotch. Emily, I hope you know Pen and I are absolutely sincere when we say we're sorry for hounding you about your private life the other night." _Was it really only a couple days ago? _"It was out of line, and completely invasive, and –"

"And we _really_ are sorry –"

This time, it was Emily's turn to raise a hand, hoping the other two would understand it as a gesture to get them to stop their apologies. They did. "Jayje...Pen..." She shook her head and breathed out a little laugh that surprised the two others. "It's okay. I get it, you two got excited and wanted all the latest gossip. I'm that exact same way all the time, you know that. It's a side effect of having this job, wanting to know every last detail about everything. Add that to being a woman, and well...it's an inexorable, built-in characteristic. I just wasn't having the best day when you two brought the subject up, which is why I reacted so snappily; but the past is the past. Knowing that neither of you meant any harm is all I need."

She leaned back against the pillows. Once again, a smile tugged at her lips, curving them slightly as she thought of their kiss in that fateful moment. As deadly and tragic as it had been at the time – for they had thought it would be their last embrace –, it had made her feel paradoxically alive. Even as her energy had been quickly waning, she had felt like a live wire. All because of him. "Besides," she said, and she had not a care in the world that a hint of coyness was coloring her tone, "...he and I don't exactly have anything to hide anymore, do we?"

JJ's and Garcia's eyes sparkled with renewed mirth and giddy interest. "You're darn right you don't, chickadee. You two are something else entirely. A something I like very much."

"He makes you happy, doesn't he?" JJ's voice was soft, matching Garcia's newly sobered expression.

"He does. So much." _You can't even imagine. _

JJ and Garcia shared a satisfied, almost relieved glance. "We're glad to hear it," the former said in earnest. "And even a blind man can see you do the same for him. He's a different man entirely around you, Emily."

Without even a second passing, she whispered, "He's his true self when he's around me."

Comfortable, sweet, and humbled silence reigned for a moment, before Emily turned back to her favorite girls once more. "Now, tell me about all the shopping we're going to be doing the moment I can get out of here."

~.~.~

The men walked in next. Emily's heart nearly broke at their obvious concern for her wellbeing. Never before had she been a part of such a tightly knit group, so wonderful and meaningful a family. It wasn't the first time the other five had stopped by to see her in the hospital; but it was the first time they would actually have enough time to sit down and talk.

She wanted – no, needed – to reassure them that she wouldn't be leaving them anytime soon. Their job was a risky one, but there was no need for guilt on anyone's part. She was safe. She was overwhelmingly content.

"Wow," Emily teased, her eyes crinkled once more, "who know simply staying in the hospital for a day or two would grant me the reward of seeing such handsome men?"

"You're a funny one, Prentiss," Morgan said, right before he crushed her to his chest in a nearly desperate hug. She was his _partner_ for Pete's sake! Nothing was allowed to happen to her. Absolutely nothing.

"Careful now, Derek, don't break her arm. The poor girl's dealt with enough, wouldn't you say?" Rossi. His voice warmed Emily's heart, and she smiled easily as he came over and dropped a fatherly kiss in her hair. "It's good to see you up and joking around, cara. Having to go to work without having your snark and sass has been absolute torture; I know we can all attest to that."

"I'll keep that in mind and remind you the next time you pick on me for my sarcasm, Rossi," Emily retorted, laughing freely.

However, it was when she saw the sullen, almost nervous look in the remaining man's eyes from across the room that Emily's laughter subsided. Her heart panged. "Hey...Derek, Dave, I'm unspeakably glad to see you two. But...do you think you could give me a second?"

They graciously left without a word, understanding, and suddenly, Emily found herself alone with a fidgeting Spencer Reid.

"Hey, Spence."

He gave a tight smile before slowly making his way over to the foot of her bed, where he sat seconds later. "Hey, Emily." His eyes remained on his hands as they twisted this way and that; until one of hers came to rest atop his. "H-how are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling a lot better," she said unwaveringly, their gazes locking finally. "Hopefully I can get out of here in the next day or so; I'd love to be able to enjoy the book you gave me in the warmth of my own home. Thank you for that, by the way."

Reid nodded, his smile widening for but a moment before he remembered just what he had been meaning to say to her ever since he saw her fall in an arc to the floor. "Emily, I'm...I'm so sorry."

His voice broke, and so did her heart. "Spencer, don't you dare apologize to me."

"Hotch sent me in as backup for you if anything were to happen and I didn't –"

"The last thing I remember is you trying your absolute hardest to negotiate with our unsub and calm him down," Emily interrupted patiently. "Neither of us could have predicted he would snap in such a way and start shooting his way out."

"Right," Reid said absentmindedly, "but is it so wrong for me to wish that..." His voice trailed away.

Emily knew just what he had been about to say, however, and she didn't like it one bit. "Reid, look at me." She waited until he did. "I would do that all over again a thousand times if it meant I could keep you from getting hurt." He opened his mouth to protest, but Emily, stubborn as she was, wouldn't let him. Somehow, she had the strangest feeling they would have this very same conversation another time; but it was just that, another time.

"This is the job," she said on a sigh. "I'm used to it, like all of you are. I'm accustomed to the risks we take every day. That day, in the field, we were partners. I have nothing but respect for you, so please don't feel guilty." Emily could see it in his eyes; she could see just how sorry he was. "It is incredibly sweet of you to care so much, but don't fault me when I feel the same way," she said gently.

"I don't," he murmured, downcasting his eyes.

"Good." She gave him a charming smile. She knew enough about Spencer Reid to know he had lost too many people he loved; and she wasn't planning on becoming another name to add to that last anytime soon.

It was all Emily could do to hope and pray she would be able to communicate that to the other five people waiting outside her door.

~.~.~

"Hey."

"Hi, there."

Emily almost hadn't notice him slip into the room as the others filed out with repeated and gentle goodbyes. She leaned into his touch when his hand cupped her palm, his body unfolding onto the bed and his lips pressing against her forehead as she sighed. "You feeling a little better? Now that you have some rest in your system and you've gotten the chance to really sit down and talk with the rest of the team, instead of having them just visit in passing. I'm sure that was nice."

She lolled her head to the side and gave him a lazy smile. "A lot better," she said, and though her voice was still a little rough around the edges, maybe even a little raspy, it soothed his soul and tugged at his heartstrings. Very subtly, he moved so that she would be somewhat leaning back against his chest. "It was good to see them, to reassure them that I'm okay. I think that will let me get even more rest tonight." Their gazes met. "I slept well. Thank you."

"For what?" The question came out in a whisper against the shell of her ear, and Emily couldn't suppress the shiver that followed.

She shrugged cutely. "I always sleep well when you're next to me. Even after all this mess, I noticed that that's one thing that hasn't changed."

"I'm glad." Hotch's smile was small but genuine, his eyes shining with obvious affection as he toyed with the ends of her hair. "I spoke to your doctor," he revealed finally. "He has already sent prescription pain medication to the pharmacy; and I think he just might have let slip that tomorrow will be your last day trapped here." He laughed a little at just how happy her expression became. They had already been confined to the same dull room, the same dreary routine of changing bandages, re-applying gauze, taking more blood tests, for what seemed like weeks – when in reality, it had only been a handful of days.

It would be good to get fresh air. To start anew.

"We can...go home?"

Hotch closed his eyes, his face buried in her hair. "Soon, sweetheart. Soon." He turned his head, and this time, his teeth grazed the skin beneath her ear and stayed there as he began to whisper delicious things to her, things that both soothed her and made her heart beat quicker. "We'll go home, whether that means your place or mine. I'll make you a dinner, though it certainly won't be as good as anything you would make. Maybe I'll put on some music again; and all you'd have to is stretch out and rest. Sleep, breathe, relax. Heal."

Without even a second of warning, Emily danced her fingers across his chest and caught his lips with hers, smiling a little at his surprised gasp. Their kiss was short and sweet and slow, and it even made Emily a little sleepy again; but she knew, no matter the outcome of the night and the ones that would follow, she would be okay. She would be safe, because he was there. She would be safe, because she loved him.

As if he could read her mind, Hotch spoke three words against her skin, reminding her that her emotions were not unrequited in the slightest.

Emily hummed pleasantly, careful to not make any sudden moves that would jostle her chest as she shifted around a bit in the bed. "I can't wait," she said on a sigh, peering at him earnestly.

"Neither can I. So get well soon or else."

"As you wish, Agent Hotchner."

~.~.~

"I don't think I've ever been this glad to be home in my entire life."

Hotch chuckled a little as he guided Emily to a seat in her main room, his arm never once leaving her waist. He knew she didn't need the physical support anymore; she had all but yelled at him when he had insisted to push her wheelchair all the way to the hospital lobby. He just liked retaining that bit of connection, a touch of skin against skin. It calmed him in a way he was sure he would never be able to understand. For now, watching Emily nestle into her familiar couch cushions, he was happy.

Happy and incredibly hungry. It was this that he was thinking of when he heard Emily's stomach give a little grumble as well, and when their gazes met for the hundredth time that day, they shared a little indulgent grin. "Whoops," Hotch murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Looks like we forgot to pick you up something on the way home. Do you want anything specific for lunch? I could always order in." A beat passed. "Though I had initially planned on cooking you lunch," Hotch admitted.

Emily smiled lazily, tucking her legs beneath her as she settled further back against the cushions. "I'm not terribly hungry," she said coyly, beckoning him forward even as he readily closed the distance between them. "You could technically _still_ impress me with your culinary skills. That is, if you're still up for it."

Hotch sealed his mouth to Emily's, reveling in her quiet resulting squeal. "You bet I am. And not only that; while I put together something to eat, I'm going to draw you a nice bath. Your favorite, even. And while I cook, you can just relax and get some of the alone time I know you've been wanting; some time to reflect on your thoughts in silence, am I right? By the time your bath is done, I'll hopefully be done preparing our meals."

Emily was speechless; he had sweetened the deal beyond her comprehension. "You are absolutely perfect," she said on a breath, never once tearing her gaze from his.

"Given the events of these past few months, I would definitely consider myself the exact opposite. You, on the other hand..." He left her with one last kiss. "I'll go draw you a bath now. Are the lavender salts still your favorite?"

_He remembers. Of course he does._ "You know they are." Slowly, gracefully, she unfolded her body from the chair and padded barefoot around the room in the general direction of her bathroom, waiting patiently as she heard Hotch hum a slow romantic tune to himself from mere steps away. _I could definitely get used to this, _she told herself. _Oh, yes. Absolutely._

~.~.~

The water was blissfully warm. She couldn't have imagined a more perfect setting; the air was perfumed with the subtlest yet most elegant fragrance, the bubbles' iridescent glow only served to make her happier, the room was peaceful and still.

But she was lonely.

She had been in the bath for long enough for her fingers to begin to wrinkle, and the thoughts that had needed to be pondered had long since disappeared from her mind. It was quiet now, too quiet, and she found herself missing his company more than she had in much too long. Breathing came easily to her now; her lungs were working well, and while she could very easily make out a new puckered scar on her chest very near to her heart, an upside was that she no longer needed pain medication to function. She felt more alive than she had in what seemed to be years, and she wanted to share that energy with him.

Emily wanted to be able to touch him again. Nothing too brazen, though she couldn't deny that had been on her mind lately; just a simple dance of her fingers along the length of his arm, against the fine lines of his face, the broad structure of his chest and back, his corded neck, his strong shoulders.

She ached for them to reacquaint themselves in that way once more. But she wasn't going to rush things. She was just going to let things...run their course.

Emily sighed into the quiet room, then smiled down at her blurry reflection in the water a beat later. She knew what needed to be done.

"Aaron?" she called out.

He was at the door in a heartbeat, and she loved it. She remembered the way he used to follow her around like the most adorable of little lost puppies; she remembered the way he had kissed her to sleep multiple times, a casual tune being crooned into her ear. She could get lost in the memories, and she was certain she wanted to create more. Especially when she heard his voice in response: "Yeah, Emily? Is there anything you need me to get?"

Her smile widened. "No, not really. Could you come in here for a second, though?" A beat passed, then the door creaked open slightly, just wide enough for Hotch to be able to peek his head in. "Hey."

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Hey. Need me to bring you water or something?"

"No, I – Aaron, you really don't need to hide behind the door," Emily said with something reminiscent to a pout – one he definitely could not deny. "I'm covered. Or at least, mostly covered." She let out a contented sigh as he finally crossed the threshold and came to sit at the edge of the tub. The cherry on top was when he took her hand in his.

"How are you feeling?" He tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear, deliberately tickling the smooth skin of her jaw in the process. "You hungry yet?"

"I'm feeling better than I have in months," she said frankly. "And no, I'm still not too hungry; but what's with all the questions?" Their low-timbred chuckles mingled in the air around them.

"I guess I can't help it. Not when I'm...around you." He brought her hand to his lips. "What did you call me here for, Em?" he whispered against her skin.

_Don't you know? _"I guess you could say I got a little lonely. It got a bit too quiet in here for my liking, and I hoped you weren't too busy being Master Chef so you could keep me company. Selfish, I know," she teased.

"That's not selfish at all," he said, indulging her like he always did. "I was just about to come over to tell you lunch was just about ready; I just put it in your refrigerator to cool down some. But what did you have in mind?"

"Well..." Emily bit her lip, her eyes sparkling as he gazed at her. "I haven't washed my hair yet. Want to give me a helping hand?"

His actions gave her the answer she needed, for not even a second had passed before he was reaching for her sweet-smelling shampoo and portioning a dollop in the palm of his hand. He loved running his fingers through her hair; after all, what sane man would give up this opportunity?

As much as she tried to prevent it, Emily let out a little moan as his fingers began to perfectly massage her scalp, twining throughout her hair and giving it a salon-quality wash. It felt so incredibly good. She almost wanted to doze off, for she was quickly falling under the spell his rhythm and tenderness were evoking.

His rumbling voice was an added benefit. "Feel good?" He laughed a little at her pleased nod. "I'm glad to hear it. You seemed kind of tense..." At that, his hands moved downward. Warm water lapped at his fingers and shifted bubbles, granting Hotch with the tiniest glance as to what he was missing. "Oh, and you still are," he breathed, his forehead wrinkling as he began to knead out the kinks in her shoulders and neck. He watched with burning interested eyes as she moved back further into his hands, her eyes falling shut and her lips parting almost imperceptibly at his touch. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

"Relax, okay, sweetheart?"

Emily licked her lips. "I don't think that's possible at the moment," she admitted, her voice wavering as he got to a particularly sensitive spot. "Wanna know why?"

He was enchanted as she turned in the water to look at him face to face. Miles and miles of such perfect skin...it was overwhelming. A part of him knew just what her answer would be, and it was just the same as his; but he had to hear her say it. He wanted to see those words fall from her cherry lips. He needed it. "Tell me."

"I want you." There was no hesitation in her tone. A gasp resounded in the room as his head descended and his lips found the curve of her throat. "Aaron, oh my God..."

"You're a goddess." His fingers teased the corners of her mouth. "Have I told you that lately?"

"Join me," she implored, not needing anymore fanfare as she took hold of his hand and tugged him forward just a titch. "The water's still so warm..."

"That might not be the best idea," he said coyly, though his mind was telling him just the opposite. His brain shorted as she sucked lightly on his fingers; and for the first time since he had entered the master bathroom, he finally drank her in. Glistening wet skin, damp and curling hair, flushed cheeks and bright eyes...his desire for her was overpowering. "Emily..."

All she had to do was look at him yet again for him to push all qualms aside and climb in with her. His clothes joined hers in a pile on the cold floor, a pile that got the tiniest bit wet as his weight displaced some of the water in the tub; but how could he worry about something so trivial when the water felt so good and when Emily – _all _of her – was so near?

She purred as he began to run his fingers around her ankles, stroking the creamy skin there. Emily knew this hadn't been what he was expecting when he had driven her home...but she also knew it was something they had both been yearning for. It would be that last little step towards reparation. It would easily heal old wounds.

Emily pouted playfully. "You're still too far away," she sighed. The bathtub was rather large, and though it had been an interesting game to fit their limbs comfortably, she wanted to be able to lean back against his chest and fit together like spoons; she didn't particularly like having to strain her arms by reaching across to do something as tame as holding hands, and she knew he wasn't entirely pleased by the separation, either.

"Where else would I be able to sit? I didn't want you to have to move around too much..." Her eyes smoldered, and they shared a dazzling smile. "...but I'm beginning to get the feeling that that's going to be inevitable. Am I right?" For a moment, he forgot how to function; the way she was looking at him took his breath away.

"I was under the impression that Aaron Hotchner was _always_ right."

She was a drug, and he was addicted. "Come here," he whispered, beckoning her forward and murmuring his approval when she straddled his thighs. Hotch took a moment to slowly kiss her neck, the column of her throat, her collarbones. He kissed down her chest as well, stopping only when he came to the new scar under her breast.

"Aaron," she groaned, fisting a hand in his hair. How was it that he was making her feel this way already? "I promise you I'm fine." _More than fine_, she wanted to say, for it felt so good to have his skin pressed up against hers. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Her eyes fell shut as she felt the tip of a finger gently run over the pink line. It hadn't needed stitches, and for that she was grateful. Emily knew Hotch still housed some guilt, but she wanted that gone. She wanted to show him that it hadn't been his fault.

She wanted to show him now.

"Aaron," she repeated, and she almost gasped when he pulled away and she saw just how dark his eyes were. She smiled when his gaze instinctively dropped to her lips. "Kiss me."

Hotch very willingly did just that. It was like beautiful fire when their lips met; he was obsessed with the feeling of being so close to her. Yet he was so far away, too. The kiss deepened, and he was rewarded with a tightening of her fingers in his hair and a thoroughly satisfied moan. The skin of her hips felt amazing beneath his touch and beneath the water that was sloshing over the rim of the tub – but again, neither of them minded. It could be cleaned later. This was something that simply could not be passed up.

"I love you," he panted, and it was his turn to groan when she bit down on the shell of his ear, her tongue teasing him along with the rest of her body. She wasn't just a goddess; she was a vixen, his temptress. "Emily, oh my God, I love you so much."

His admission made a giddy feeling rush through her body at top speed, but while the sentiment was most definitely reciprocated, she had only two words for him in response. _"Show me." _

Hotch's heart was pounding now, his breathing unsteady. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she insisted, her expression earnest and soft. "I know you won't." Once again, there was that sweet lazy smile. "I trust you, Aaron."

His thumb brushed across her swollen lips. "You're sure?" Hotch didn't know what part of her statement he was asking about; his open-ended question applied to whether she was sure he wouldn't hurt her or if she was sure she actually trusted him. There was room for misinterpretation, but he made no move to clarify. Hotch knew Emily would understand. She always did.

This time was no different. "Cross my heart," Emily swore. She left the _and hope to die_ part unsaid, for it wouldn't have been right, given her latest scare. She hoped for nothing of the sort; she hoped for nothing but the fact that they could stay like this forever.

Their gazes spoke a million words: _You want me to make love to you? Is that it?_

_Yes. Please._

_I would be lost without you._

There was nothing else that needed to be said. It seemed like they spent an eternity looking into each other's eyes, and that didn't change as Hotch moved in the tub, readying both Emily and himself for that final connection. "Promise me you'll tell me if –"

She cut him off by taking his hand in hers and putting it over the scar on her chest. She then covered his hand with hers, and together, they felt her heartbeat; strong, sound, and unyielding, just like Emily herself.

It made Hotch smile with gratitude. And then he was pushing into her as gently as possible, and she was urging him forward with kisses beneath his jaw and a squeeze of his hand, and when he was finally seated deep within her, so deep that he couldn't for the life of him tell where he ended and she began...that was when he truly understood the meaning and beauty of perfection.

It was an indescribably glorious feeling when he finally began to move within her. He was lighting nerve-endings on fire, touching places on her body she had never known existed; he was bringing her back to life, showing her an Emily Prentiss – a fiery, gorgeous, and free-spirited woman with flames of passion dancing behind black eyes – she had thought was long forgotten. Each piston of his hips drew from her a different sigh, a different moan, and Hotch committed them all to memory. But Emily wasn't resting idle. Rather, she raked her nails down his back and sucked hard on his neck, knowing from past experience just how much he loved the sensations the combination evoked. They'd both be sore by the time the sun set and night drew near to closing, but it was an aching they would exchange for nothing else in the world.

However, the more they moved around in the bathtub, the more the water cooled, and while it wasn't expressly uncomfortable, both Hotch and Emily knew the ecstasy coursing through their bodies would be all the more incredible between warm sheets. It made her smile, the fact that he was being so incredibly careful with her, as if she were the most delicate of pretty porcelain dolls. He went out of his way to make sure no part of her would be strained; after all, while her doctors had issued her a clean bill of health, they had warned her against overworking herself, and Emily didn't particularly want to have to increase her dosage of painkillers after a tryst like this, no matter how much she was enjoying it at the moment.

And she really was. Thus, Emily made no objection as Hotch stepped out of the tub and hoisted her up around his waist, water dripping down their still-connected bodies and onto the tile floor. They didn't bother reaching for the white fluffy towels that were mere inches away; that would mean they would have to let go of one another for even a split second, and just the thought of doing something so heinous made them grip each other firmer.

"Your sheets are going to get wet," Hotch said matter-of-factly. "Your mattress probably won't dry as quickly as you'd like."

"I don't care," Emily said on an exhale, smiling up at him beatifically as he placed her carefully back against her pillows. "All I care about at the moment is you."

He wrapped them snugly in the sheets, holding Emily flush against him. Just when she was least expecting it, his mouth descended on her breasts, taking one nipple – then the other – between his teeth; and all the while, the rhythmic drive of his hips brought her to heights more brilliant than she had ever known. "I was about the say that exact same thing," he ground out.

Her mouth fell open as a pair of fingers found her clit. "Stop talking," she rasped, her voice unapologetically needy. "Aaron –"

He simply smiled wider, and delivered a particularly deep thrust. "Have you always been this bossy?" Her muscles were already beginning to tighten and clench around him in the most delicious of ways; he knew it was just a matter of time before she was flung headfirst into the bliss only they had been able to give each other.

_"Aaron, Christ, I'm so close!"_

And there it was. He reveled in it; it gave him such an unbelievable high. He needed more. He needed all of Emily Prentiss for as long as she'd bless him with her intoxicating presence in his life. "Come for me, sweetheart," he urged, his eyes bright and just the slightest but wild. His pace quickened, her touch on his skin became rougher. "Come on, Em; let me hear you _scream._"

_Now who's bossy?_ she wanted to retort, but any and all attempts at resistance were futile. A groan of beautiful defeat welled in the back of her throat, and she thrashed about on the bed as his touch became hotter, his kisses became more intimate, his encouraging became louder –

Just one more thrust –

_"Oh my God, Aaron! Aaron!"_

"Yes," he panted deliriously, just seconds away from reaching that coveted precipice as well. "Yes, sweetheart, that's it. Just like that. Oh, Emily..." With the added touch of her shaking fingers to his hypersensitive flesh, Hotch fell apart with a shout that had Emily screaming at a different decibel entirely; and they tumbled back down to the bed together, a pile of sweaty and shuddering limbs.

They held each other for a long, lingering moment, not wanting to do anything that would break their newly re-established connection. Emily could barely hear over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears, and neither could Hotch, really, but that didn't stop him from pressing the lightest of kisses to her temple, breathing her in in the process. "I love you so much," she heard him say against her hair, and immediately, she whispered the words right back to him. "My beautiful Emily..." His lips curved into a dazed smile, and Emily felt hers doing the same in result. "You're all mine." _How did I get to be so lucky?_

"I'm yours," Emily agreed readily, resting her head on his chest. Their bodies were no longer damp from the bath, but the sheets were getting colder and Emily desperately wanted to hold onto the warmth he was providing her. She shot him a seductively feline grin. "And you, Aaron Hotchner...you're mine."

"Always," he swore, linking their fingers together. His heart skipped a beat at the look of adoration he found reflected in her gaze. "For as long as you'll have me."

Her eyes now closed, Emily blindly kissed his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair. It was a sensation she would never get tired of experiencing. "Then, in that case, I hope you plan on staying around for a very long time."

"I most definitely do." The moment Hotch said these words, however, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and eventually maneuvered into a sitting position. Emily kept silent, her eyebrows furrowing, but when Hotch made to move out of the bed, she just had to object.

"And just where do you think you're going, Mister?" She knew he loved the coy, flirtatious tone coloring her voice; but she seriously did not want him to leave, and especially now! There was no man on the earth that was better at cuddling than Aaron Hotchner. He had proven that fact a thousand times over, yet she wanted him to prove it again.

Hotch smiled at her, but gently pried her fingers from his wrist. "There are just a couple things I need to get, okay? I'll be back in a heartbeat, I promise."

"I miss you already."

It was those words that spurred Hotch to move even quicker, and within the span of what couldn't have been five minutes, he was back with an armful of towels, bathrobes...and their forgotten lunch.

Emily's expression immediately softened. "Oh, Aaron..." She thanked him with a kiss on the cheek as he wrapped her in the fluffy pale blue cotton. She was in a state akin to Heaven when Hotch began drying her hair, his breath hot on the back of her neck. He was a gentleman, as he always had been; and she absolutely loved it.

"I figured we might as well have lunch here," he said, giving her a crinkly-eyed smile and laughing into her sweet-smelling hair at the resulting roll of her eyes. "Since_ someone_ didn't feel like moving out of bed."

"Can you really blame me?" Emily kissed him slowly as he finished feeding her a juicy strawberry, giggling some as he moaned, having tasting the flavor on her tongue. "You're _here_. Why would I want to go anywhere else?"

Hotch tickled her side. "You need to stop stealing the words right out of my mouth, Emily. Really, I don't want to move from this position either." He gave her hand a squeeze, their foreheads resting against one another now. "If only we could stay here forever."

She hummed as he gazed into her dark eyes. She wondered what he was seeing; she wondered if it was the same sentiment that was filling her heart and soul. "Who is to say that we can't, Aaron?"

"You know what?" he asked, completely overcome with love for the woman in his arms. He was never going to leave her side ever again; he would be her partner in every definition of the word, as long as she allowed him. "You're absolutely right, darling. You are absolutely right."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Thank you sincerely for taking the time to read. If you have the time, please leave a review; no matter short or long, signed or anonymous, they are absolute treasure in my eyes. I'll need all the energy I can get in order to finish this last installment. I have it outlined already, of course, but putting pen to paper and bringing all the words together to form something more profound...I'm excited and anxious at the very same time. Your support means the world to me.<strong>

**Only one more chapter remaining! Let me know if you have any ideas for an epilogue. **


	55. Pipe Dreams and Fairy Tales

**Author's Note: These past couple weeks have been the most hectic of my life, what with exams, rehearsals that went until ten o'clock at night, opening night for the musical I was in, and two other shows. I hoped to tide you all over with _The Land of Steady_ _Habits_, but what I realized was that, regardless of all the time that passed, you all never gave up on me. **

**To those of you (all of you!) who have stuck with me through chapter after chapter, conflict after conflict, emotion after emotion, I cannot thank you enough. The time you all have spent reading and reviewing and messaging me...it means so much to me, and I hope I can repay you with this last chapter. Never forget: you guys are the best, and a lot of this could not have been done without your support and feedback.**

**Without further ado...I do hope you enjoy! Much love.**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p><em>"Aaron?"<em>

Emily moaned a little at the sound of her groggy voice, hoarse from the scream after scream he had ripped from her throat in the throes of the purest ecstasy she had ever experienced. Sleep still weighed down her eyelids, but she forced herself to blink it back. After all, she wanted every possible second with Hotch, especially in the early morning...before the rush of their daily life began...

"Aaron?" she repeated, turning on her side to peer at the other side of the bed. Naturally and hopefully, she had expected to be greeted with the sight of a handsomely rumpled Aaron Hotchner with a soft tuft of hair falling in his eyes as he rested in sleep's comfortable embrace.

Instead, she found blank space and a strategically placed letter.

_My darling Emily, _it read. _Hopefully I'll be able to return home before you wake up, but if that's not the case, please do not begin to worry. I've just snuck out for a minute to bring home a very rambunctious surprise for you _–_ anything to make your day a little brighter. I love you._

_Yours, Aaron._

Emily had barely read the last words or processed just how sweet his message was before she heard the theatrically hushed voices of her two favorite men right outside her bedroom door. Biting back a smile, she burrowed back under the covers and closed her eyes once more, feigning sleep. If it meant she would be able to give sweet little Jack a laugh in the early morning hours, then she would do it a million times over.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Emily could barely suppress her overjoyed grin as she felt the mattress dip just slightly as Jack plopped down beside her, swinging his legs to and fro. "Can I wake her up, Daddy?" he said in a voice that had obviously meant to be a whisper but came out much louder.

"How about we both wake her up? I just don't want you to be too loud, buddy. Emily needs as much rest as possible, alright?" There was a clanking that sounded reminiscent to a tray being placed down on her bedside table; and as soon as silence was restored, as soon as Hotch's hands were presumably free, Emily felt lips press against her temple.

Jack, on the other hand, threw his arms around her blanket-covered waist. Before Emily opened her eyes and broke the spell, a single thought flitted to the forefront of her conscience. It was something that made her stop and wonder; that Jack barely knew her, yet the young boy acted as if they were best friends.

He acted just like his father, and she loved it so incredibly much.

With a little shuddering exhale, Emily stretched her arms out, coincidentally wrapping Jack up in a beyond comfortable hug. "Good morning, you two," she said quietly, her eyes soft and her demeanor more peaceful than Hotch had ever seen it. "Now this is what I call a pleasant surprise."

Hotch moved his lips from her forehead down to her lips for the slightest fraction of a second. "We made you breakfast," he whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her skin in the most delightful of ways. "Chocolate chip waffles and freshly cut strawberries. Your favorite." He twined their fingers together, smiling at the look of adoration she gave him. "And I'm brewing a new pot of coffee as we speak."

"I don't think I could ever tell you enough times just how perfect you are."

"I suppose you could, but I would never listen, because I'm nothing compared to you." He pulled her into a sitting position, chuckling as Jack squealed and slid onto her lap in result. "My beautiful Emily."

"Stop," she said half-heartedly, blushing a pretty pink as she bounced the little boy up and down enthusiastically. "And how are you, Mister Jack-Jack? I haven't seen you in much too long. You're growing up so fast!"

Jack erupted into raucous giggles, just as he usually did, and Emily immediately found herself being rid of any leftover anxiety that had remained in her system from the days past. "Thank you," he said cutely, before his father could prompt him.

"You're most certainly welcome. Anything for my favorite four year old."

Jack's eyes were wide with excitement as he turned to his father, remembering something that was clearly of the utmost importance. "Daddy, can I ask her now?"

"You sure can, Jack," he said, his attention divided between his two loves as he fed Emily a juicy strawberry. Part of him was suddenly filled with the intense desire to lean forward and taste the tart sweetness on her full lips; but that could wait for a time when Jack was otherwise occupied.

Spinning around in her lap so that he and Emily were face to face, Jack gave his toothiest grin. "Can we go ice skating today?"

Emily's gaze brightened at the idea. "Of course we can! That sounds like so much fun; I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon. But, sweetheart, you don't have to ask my permission for things like this," she said sweetly, touching a finger to the tip of his button nose.

"I asked him to make sure you didn't have any plans of your own in mind," Hotch clarified, watching with approval as she scarfed down the delicious waffles. After all, she needed all the sustenance she could get. "I was hoping beyond hope you'd be able to spend the day with us. And what do you know? You never disappoint."

"I'm glad to hear you think so."

"You know I do. And besides, I may or may not have an ulterior motive behind all this. While we're at the mall, we – or really, I – need to do some Christmas shopping." He shot her a secretive and somehow seductive glance, leaving her heart beating just a titch faster than normal. God, the man was amazing.

Emily smiled lazily at him. "You really don't need to get me anything. You're the greatest gift I could ever ask for," she said, her voice sugary sweet and mawkish; but they both knew her words were entirely true. The sentiment was returned a thousandfold.

"As if I could ever live with myself if I didn't get you something," Hotch scoffed playfully, passing a wriggling Jack the last strawberry. "Anyway, if I'm being honest, I already have your gift picked out."

"Really?" she questioned, her eyes glittering with mirth. "What is it?"

"It's me, babe," he played along, fully aware his answer made no sense in response to their previous banter about the exact same subject. Meanwhile, Emily's teeth on her bottom lip held back a taunting smirk. She wasn't about to give up possibly the best sarcastic retort imaginable.

"...Did you come with a gift receipt?"

Hotch's reaction was instantaneous. _"Emily Elizabeth Prentiss," _he bit out, shaking his head. He clucked his disappointment, making a show of grasping his heart in shock. "I'm hurt."

She threw her head back and full-on laughed. The sound came deep from her belly and Hotch found it to be utterly delightful. He could go years hearing nothing but the musical indicator of her happiness. "You love me," she tossed at him.

"You're lucky I do," he teased, trying but failing to keep his voice flat and dryly sarcastic.

"I am," Emily said then, sobering. Their gazes locked, and they shared a sentimental little smile. "Very lucky."

"Why were you laughing, Daddy?" Jack piped up finally, never one to be out of the spotlight for more than a handful of minutes at a time. Neither adult minded; the young boy was much too adorable and beloved to be so rudely ignored.

Hotch turned to his son, an exaggerated aghast expression written across the handsome lines and planes of his finely stubbled face. "Miss Emily said something mean."

Jack wrinkled his nose and grinned yet again, one of his many signs that indicated he was clearly amused. "Miss Emily is funny, Daddy."

Emily's laughter only increased in volume, and Hotch found himself shaking his head even harder. "Now look what you've done!" he exclaimed, grabbing Emily's hand in his and squeezing it tight. "Well, I'll be. Emily Prentiss, you've turned my own son against me."

She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a little whisper of a kiss to his knuckles. And then she winked. "Mission accomplished, then."

_"Funny,"_ he grumbled, though his heart beat with the most profound love he had ever felt in his life. _"Real funny."_

~.~.~

"Now this...this is nice."

Hotch smiled at Emily's contented sigh; she did look thoroughly at ease, no one could deny it. He had bundled her up in her warmest coat, colored a red that looked fabulous on her skin, and she cradled her cup of Starbucks close to her face, reveling in the heavenly smell of coffee. All in all, she looked like a picture out of some winter wonderland, and Hotch knew in that instant that he was the luckiest man in the world to be able to spend a blessed day by her side. "Nice doesn't even begin to cover it."

"You could say that again." She nudged Jack in the side playfully, her lips curving at the corners at the adorable look of frustration on his scrunched up face. "You need help tying your skates, Jack-Jack?"

"Yes, please," he said immediately, as polite as ever, relinquishing the laces to her waiting fingers. "They're too loose."

"I'll make them nice and snug, how about that?" Without even a second of thought as to what she was doing, as if it were almost second nature, Emily dropped a kiss in the boy's downy hair. She could feel Hotch's gaze burning a wonderful heat into her skin, and while she didn't dare look at his reaction, something within her told her he was very, very pleased.

So pleased, in fact, that he wanted to her hold her tight to his side and tell her just how much; but Jack had other plans. While Hotch would have been thoroughly content simply with sitting with Emily on the sidelines as Jack skated around and around, he knew it wasn't the fun his endlessly energetic son was looking for. And how could he deny Jack anything?

Even Emily seemed eager to get out on the ice. She took his hand in hers and gave him a great big smile; and when tugged him over to the skate rental counter, Jack following right behind them, there was no way Hotch could object. So what if he hadn't skated in what seemed to be a lifetime?

So what if he'd fall on his butt a dozen times and make a fool of himself?

At least it would make Emily and Jack laugh. And at the end of the day, like he'd said and thought more than a thousand times before, that was really all Hotch wanted. It made him happier than he had ever been.

He should have known Emily would look like a princess on the ice. Skin as white as snow contrasting with hair as dark as ebony; she was easily more beautiful than Snow White herself. With Jack between them, holding on tightly to both of their hands, Hotch and Emily skated around with ease, and to any passerby, any casual onlooker, they appeared to be the most perfect family. For a long, lovely moment, they were able to live that dream. Subtle yet gorgeous glances between the two over Jack's head spoke volumes, and the brunette couple found themselves falling deeper and deeper in love with every second that passed.

It was like a scene straight out of a fairytale – even when Hotch did slip on a particularly wet patch of ice. His bumble caused an almost chain reaction; his weight had pulled Jack down with him, and even the slightest discrepancy in her balance had Emily falling as well. They just sat there for a second, the cold of the ice seeping through their skin, and not one of them minded. Instead, all three erupted into peals of joyous and surprised laughter, a melodic sound that had everyone around them feeling that much better.

It was a sliver of time that was so inherently beautiful; and both Hotch and Emily were set on never letting it end.

After they had spent a good hour on the ice, skating the perimeter too many times to count and then finally venturing into the middle, Emily and Hotch, a sleeping Jack in the latter's arms, sunk into a pair of benches, irreplaceable smiles stretching their lips. There was nothing that would be able to crush the mood they were in; absolutely nothing.

Not even Christmas shopping, Hotch told himself.

After all, he did know what he wanted to get her. He had already gotten the majority of her presents, making sure to purchase them at a time that she wouldn't be around. She more than likely would not approve of the amount of money he had spent on her, but to him, she was worth every penny and so much more.

But this one, this last gift? This was beyond special, if not sentimental in a humorous way.

"What are you thinking so intently about, Mister?"

Her sweet and husky voice pulled him from his thoughts, and it wasn't even a second before he was kissing her, tasting paradise. "You, Emily," he whispered against her lips. "I'm thinking about you. Specifically, where to find your last Christmas present."

"You're incorrigible," she sighed, shaking her head, though the look in her eyes held the indulgent kind of adoration one usually felt for a child.

"I love you."

_God, he's going to make me swoon one of these days, there's no doubt about it._ "I love you, too. I love you _more_," Emily amended, reaching out to scratch his scalp in just the way he liked.

"Liar," Hotch managed, barely biting back a groan. The woman was going to be the death of him one of these days. But oh, what a time he would have before then. What a torturously pleasurable death it would be.

Emily smirked, pressing her lips to his forehead, then his cheek. "A liar? Me? Never."

That made him chuckle. "You do realize nothing is going to make me change my mind and not get you the last present I have in mind, right?" Jack shifted restlessly in his arms, but Hotch knew to make a habitual soothing noise, instantly calming the boy back into precious sleep.

"Of course I do," she responded, smiling slightly at the display of fatherly affection. There was no way she would ever get over how adorable the two men were together. She shrugged elegantly, her expression coy. "But I at least have to try to protest, don't I?"

"Not necessarily, no."

She huffed, rolling her eyes good-naturedly as she elbowed him in the side. "God, you're so stubborn, Hotchner."

His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, closer. The three of them were a tangle of limbs, with Jack's elbows and knees poking into Hotch's chest, with Hotch's arms and Emily's linked and their legs touching. "You and me both, darling," he said; and his smile as he said the words redefined handsome.

"One of the many things we have in common, I suppose." Emily's voice softened just a titch as she took in how comfortable she was feeling. She wanted to live like this, with them, forever. If that wasn't a pipe dream, she didn't know what was, but she wasn't going to chalk up the fervent thoughts to something like girlish naivete. No, this time around in life, she actually had a chance. A chance to be in love. A chance to be blissfully happy with the man she loved with all her heart.

She had the heavenly feeling that Hotch felt the same way. But she would let time tell the rest of their tale. She would wait. Patience would become her best friend.

"Absolutely, Emily," Hotch crooned in her ear, nuzzling the skin of her neck as he unknowingly answered more than just one of her questions. "Absolutely, my love."

~.~.~

"So I've been waiting for the perfect time, and I don't think this moment could be any more beautiful, so I'll go ahead and ask."

It was late. Jack was sprawled out on the couch, watching a colorful cartoon with rambunctious characters. It was obvious the boy was on the edge of sleep, but neither father nor son completely felt it was bedtime yet. Neither wanted the day to end.

Emily was no exception. "Alright, you've got my attention now," she said, lolling her head to the side and giving him a lazy smile. A mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and cinnamon rested on the table at her feet.

Hotch wrapped both arms around her waist from behind, urging her to rest against the sturdy wall of his chest. It was when his lips were perfectly aligned with her ear – for what had to have been the hundredth time that day – that he whispered the words he had been wanting to for the longest of times. "Spend Christmas with me."

It took all of Emily's might and restraint to not melt in his arms right then and there. "I'm not entirely sure that was a question, Aaron," she teased; but her voice shook, quivered with anticipation.

Hotch's voice, on the other hand, dripped with the driest of dry sarcasm. "You're so funny," he grumbled under his breath, kissing the back of her neck. "I wish I could somehow be as funny as you."

"I know." But Emily sobered immediately as she felt Hotch leave impossibly soft kisses all over her skin, as she heard his whispered promises to love her for forever and always. "I'm sorry I interrupted you, sweetheart," she said gently, earnestly. "I'm listening." She figured her answer to his imploring was written clear across her features, but she let him continue on anyway.

"Please say yes," he all but pleaded, taking her hands in his and squeezing. "It's all I've wanted for such a long time. You won't be forced off to Russia this year; we'll be able to make up for lost time." His eyes were bright with an excitement and enthusiasm that Emily adored. "Jack would love it," he continued, and the little boy craned his neck over the back of the couch to spare them a second-long curious glance.

And then Emily heard his next sweet words: "I would love it impossibly more."

She couldn't prevent it any longer; her heart melted, and though it proved to be just the slightest bit difficult because of the lack of couch space, she turned in his arms, moving so that she was sitting atop his lap. "Aaron...did you actually think there was a possibility that I would say no?"

Hotch looked sheepishly to the side. "Well, no, I'd hoped not, but –"

"Exactly," Emily said definitively. "Speak no more," she said, silencing him with a long, delightful kiss. "I'd love to spend Christmas with you. That much has never changed." She tried biting back her jubilant grin, but her eyes gave her away as they crinkled prettily at the corners. "I already cannot wait."

"You're amazing," he breathed out, burying his face in her hair and holding her close. He had told her many times before that he would never let her go; and he was planning on proving that a million times over. "So incredibly amazing."

"Look who's talking."

~.~.~

Hotch hated to wake Emily from her nap, but the excitement he was feeling was one that had been building for days, weeks even. "Open your eyes," he urged, purring words of encouragement in her ear to pull her from sleep. She murmured unintelligibly, her eyelashes fluttering; but overall, she just pushed him away, much to his amusement.

This time, he kissed her on the mouth, smiling against her lips when she couldn't possibly refrain from kissing him back. "Merry Christmas, Emily, love," he muttered handsomely, running a couple fingers through her dark locks.

Emily chuckled, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes as she regarded him with a straight expression on her face. "Contrary to popular belief, I do have access to a calendar. Christmas isn't until another couple days, Aaron."

The silly man grinned, caving instantly. "Okay, so maybe I just want you to open this gift early. Maybe I'm a little impatient." He wanted – no, _needed_ – to see her reaction when she opened the box. It was something she wouldn't expect in the slightest. Neither chocolate nor jewelry; no, those were the presents she would open on Christmas day itself.

This...well, this deserved its own day. And God, he hoped beyond hope that she loved it.

Emily regarded the box with the sweetest kind of curiosity. The gift wrap was tastefully chosen, thick silver paper with white and icy blue glitter in a festive pattern. A simple bow rested atop the box, and as she undid it with slender fingers, a smile slowly curved Hotch's lips. The anticipation was building; his heart beat was quickening.

One fold of paper gave away. Then another. And another –

"God, Aaron, you're such a tease," Emily groaned out playfully, pulling the top of the gift box off and laying it beside them on the bed. "First, you make me undo a ribbon, then wrapping paper, now the actual box, then tissue paper..._oh_."

Hotch's breath caught in the back of his throat. The gift was silly, really, but that didn't make him want her to love it any less. "Do you like it?" he asked quietly.

It was an apron. Simple, white, just soft enough to the touch. On the middle of the chest portion, in curling black and red text, were the words _kiss the cook_.

Before Emily realized it, a silly little grin was on her face. She looked at her lover, their similarly sparkling gazes locking, and leaned in to seal her lips to his. "I love it, you amazing man," she whispered against the skin of his jaw. "Thank you so much. It's so unexpected...but absolutely perfect at the exact same time." She fingered the thick fabric excitedly. "All of a sudden, I want to use it right this very minute."

"You want to cook for me? Is that what you're saying?" Hotch responded cheekily, laughing as she poked his dimples in spite. "Because I wouldn't object one bit."

"Sure, that's exactly what I meant," Emily retorted sarcastically, though the mirth and love was still written into her expression. She knew what he had intended with the gift; he knew from experience that she was inexplicably at home in the kitchen. He wanted her to reacquaint herself with that happiness, that peace.

But there was something she had to do first.

Setting the apron aside with the utmost care, Emily gave Hotch a luminescent smile and pushed herself out of bed. "I have an early gift of my own to give you, you know."

"Oh, really?" His gaze followed her around the room as she discreetly pulled something from her bottom drawer and slipped into her master bathroom without another word. "Emily...baby, you can't just leave me hanging like that. Emily..."

The door opened just a sliver, just wide enough for her head to peek through for but a second. "Don't look until I tell you to," she said, shooting him a coy smile and blowing him a kiss before disappearing once more.

_"What _–_ Em _–_"_

Emily smirked as she pulled the piece of red lace over her head and smoothed it down over her curves. "I love you," she said, loudly enough for him to hear her clearly on the other side of the door.

Hotch groaned deeply. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" Already, his mind was creating countless scenarios, all of which were deadly in the best of ways. All he wanted her to do was open that door; he just wanted to see her before his heart stopped.

"Maybe," she said nonchalantly, running her fingers through her hair yet again, glad it was staying silky and curly. "Hopefully not. That wouldn't be any fun, now would it?"

"I miss you already," Hotch said simply, his voice husky in a way that made Emily's legs go the tiniest bit weak. Her heartbeat sped up as she placed her hand on the doorknob; would he like it? She sure hoped he would. It had gone without use ever since its purchase, and it was high time that they created memories that would last a thousand years.

A little bit of his favorite cherry lip gloss was the last angelic touch Emily needed before stepping back into the bedroom. "You don't have to miss me anymore," she said softly, and she could distinctly hear Hotch's sharp intake of breath as he realized just how close to heaven he really was. It made her delightfully giddy; any and all traces of anxiety were long gone. "Open your eyes, handsome."

He did.

Just like he had expected, his heart stopped. His jaw dropped. His breath left his body. "Holy hell," he rumbled with the utmost approval. "Emily, you look – oh my God." The red, the shimmering fabric, the pure seduction...overwhelming didn't even begin to describe it.

Emily smiled with effortless and devilish beauty as she sauntered over to him and straddled his thighs. "Merry early Christmas," she said, groaning a little in the back of her throat as Hotch kissed her without fanfare, tasting the cherry sweetness on her full red lips.

"Oh my God," Hotch repeated dumbly, his hands falling on her lace-clad hips. "You're so beautiful," he said, unspeakably shocked. "And you're mine? How – how did I become so lucky?" He smiled dazedly. "And how are you so stunning?"

"I'm _all_ yours," Emily said softly, cupping his face in both of her palms. "There's a little story behind this negligee," she informed, watching with interest as he began fingering its lace hem, his fingers flirting with the soft and supple skin he found beneath the layer of allure. "Want to hear it?"

"Maybe later," he answered, obviously distracted. After all, what man could blame him? What man would turn down a chance at the sweetest kind of redemption? "God, I love you, Emily Prentiss."

Emily's back arched as he laid her back on the bed, kissing her fuller now. "Say it again," she moaned out, her breathing already heavy. "Aaron..."

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Hotch chanted, taking one more minute to further worship how gorgeous she looked in the red fabric before ridding her of it and letting it fall to the smooth hardwood ground. "I never want to spend another day without you by my side."

"I love you, Aaron Hotchner," Emily confessed, with all the honesty and unadulterated devotion she could muster. Then her lips curved into a beautifully feline smile. "Now shut up and make love to me."

"Yes, ma'am," Hotch growled, playfully nipping at her newly bared skin; his treasure map. "Anything for you, Emily. Anything at all."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I say this nearly every time I finish a multi-chapter story, but words truely cannot describe how magnificent a time I've had writing this story, and I can only hope that you've ultimately enjoyed reading it. Thank you sincerely for taking the time to do so, with every single chapter that has passed through your inbox. It's been one heck of a rollercoaster ride, but I must thank you for being able to see the beauty in even the darkest, most twisted moments. That right there is something I am so incredibly thankful for.<strong>

**If you can, please leave me a review, ****_even if you haven't before_****. Reviews are very nearly our only sense of compensation here on FanFiction, and they really do mean the world to us – to me. Signed or anonymous, short or long, your reviews are priceless to me; they are like the finest treasure, and I can say without a doubt that there are times I know I wouldn't have been able to keep on trekking through this beast of a story without your support and dedication. So thank you again, so very much. **

**Also, reviewer #1300 will get a oneshot written for the prompt of their choice! Cheers!**

**But remember...this story isn't complete yet. Stay tuned for the epilogue!**


	56. Epilogue: White

**Author's Note: **Well, this is it. The end of the line. Just thinking that makes my heart ache a little, because this story has really redefined my FanFiction experience. I remember being overwhelmed by the thought of ever posting a single story back in May of 2010. But now, here we are. I've been working on this story for a little over fourteen months, yet it never once felt that long to me. Maybe because you all have been so endlessly patient and encouraging, and that has made me constantly work harder to pull from my heart and put everything into this story. ******Yes, that sounds about right.**

**I know I've said it before, but I just want to thank you all one more time. Thank you for being a great audience, and continually enjoying chapter after chapter. I hope this very last installment of _Kiss the Cook_ lives up to your expectations. So, without further ado...enjoy!**

**Disclaimer in Chapter One!**

* * *

><p>"I know the whole purpose of having an apron is to get it dirty in the kitchen," Emily sighed, staring at the previously spotless white fabric that was now colored with a splotch of the tomato basil soup she was ladling into bowls. "But can you really blame me for wanting it to remain spotless for forever?"<p>

Hotch chuckled adoringly, coming up behind her and pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck, breathing in the comforting scent of her hair and skin. "You've been using it for around a year, love," he reminded, "yet you hardly ever get it stained."

She turned to him then, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Except for that one time..."

He smiled slowly as her voice trailed away. "Oh, yes. That one time." Their silence lasted barely a minute, but in those precious sixty seconds, they remembered an incredible evening. Emily's intention had been to make chocolate toffee saltines, a particularly favorite treat of Hotch's, but the chocolate had eventually been used for...other things.

"If I remember it correctly, _someone's_ fingers got into the chocolate mixture I was making, and I just had to start over," Emily said smartly, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared indulgently at him.

His previously sweet smile morphed into something more dangerous. "There was absolutely no starting over, sweetheart," he rumbled, his husky voice washing over her like the sweetest kind of ecstasy. "You and I just...kept going." _And going. And going._

"I suppose you're right." Emily grinned then, and leaned in for a quick and chaste kiss before going back to her cooking.

"If you don't think we'll be able to get the stain out and it's really bothering you, I could just get you another apron, you know," Hotch said simply, as if it were the most obvious statement in the world.

"I think you've gotten me enough in the past year," she said soft, eagerly letting him take her hands in his; and even in the nicely dimmed lighting of the room they were in, the diamond ring on her slender finger sparkled brightly. Emily very nearly swooned as Hotch brought the hand to his lips and left a gentle kiss there.

"Oh, but I think I'm the one that got the greatest gift of all," he said earnestly, his eyes smoldering as he gazed longingly at her. "You're going to make me the happiest man in the world, Emily Prentiss," he whispered. "In fact, I think you already have."

Their lips met for a long kiss then, the perfect mixture of sweet and sultry, and Emily found herself melting readily in his embrace, her eyes fluttering closed at the onslaught of pleasurable emotions. She felt unrestrainedly giddy as she realized that, soon enough, they would be sharing the rest of their lives with one another. That, soon enough – yet soon enough – she would be Emily Hotchner.

She could hardly wait.

Emily opened her eyes just in time to see Hotch dip a finger in his bowl to taste the flavorful rich and creamy soup. She was rewarded with a pleased moan as the flavor exploded on his tongue. "God, Em, I'll never know how you do it," he rumbled, his eyes flashing with lust as she took his finger in her mouth and sucked slowly. His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth idly. "You take something as simple as tomato basil soup and you make it taste so good. What's your secret?"

"Freshly cut cilantro and a lot of lemon juice," she said, reluctantly moving away from her fiancé in order to brandish two spoons. One hand on her hip and the other stretched out to Hotch, she cocked her head in the direction of the pantry and refrigerator. "Want a glass of wine? Your pick."

"That sounds absolutely fantastic." Barely a minute had passed before Hotch was pouring two glasses of chilled white wine and holding one to Emily's lips. Their gazes never left one another's as the cool, slightly bitter, but inherently delicious liquid ran down Emily's throat. "Well?"

_"Perfect,"_ she murmured, leaning in for one more kiss. "Wanna eat in the living room?"

"Of course. We can take some of the cushions off of the couches and place them on the floor so we can sit by the fire and use the coffee table as a dining table –" He stopped as Emily began to laugh. "What?"

"My adorable little interior designer," Emily purred endearingly, balancing her bowl in one hand as she ran the fingers of her other through his thick dark hair. "I love you."

"I love you more," Hotch said in a tone that spoke of no doubt whatsoever. "But need I remind you that _you_ were the one who was talking yesterday about moving things around the living room and refurnishing different parts of the house?"

"Well, yes," Emily relented, curling up at his side as they sat on the floor. "But we _are_ going to need the extra room if and when we have a little girl toddling about," she said wistfully, her eyes wide and shining brightly.

"Who says we're going to have a girl?" Hotch retorted, though his expression was completely and utterly soft. He could imagine her already: little brown curls, pink chubby cheeks, a toothy grin, and a tendency for squealing that would capture anyone's heart for good. She would be absolutely, positively gorgeous. Just like her mother.

"Do you not want one?" Emily countered cheekily, though she didn't really need to hear a verbal response to know what his answer would be.

He gave her knee a little squeeze. "You know I do, sweetheart."

Emily chuckled a little, shaking her head at how serious he had become. "Aaron, I'm not even pregnant yet," she reminded, her eyes crinkling at the corners as he drank in how comfortable she looked in his home – _their _home.

_"Yet," _Hotch repeated with a roguish and over–the–top wink.

Emily couldn't help it; her soon–to–be husband's boyish manners put her in a fit of giggles. "Oh, you silly man," she breathed out on a sigh as his lips found her neck. Her arms circled snugly around his waist. "God, I love you so much. But if you keep this up, our soup is going to get cold."

He groaned a little, wholeheartedly unwilling to pull away from her embrace. It was just too good, too right. Too nice. "I wouldn't care in the slightest if it didn't taste so damn good," he grumbled, before eagerly tasting a spoonful.

That only made Emily laugh even more. _"You're welcome, Aaron." _

~.~.~

"Well, you two. Your big day is just one weekend away. Have the butterflies settled in yet?"

Emily smiled softly at Hotch, who was holding her hand in his lap, before meeting the gaze of their wedding planner, Skye. It was their very last meeting and they were wrapping everything up...but it seemed like there was still so much they needed to go over! It was almost overwhelming, but God, Emily loved it. "I'd be lying if I said the butterflies haven't been in my stomach since the very moment Aaron proposed."

"You're adorable," Hotch whispered in her ear, then turned back to the other woman. "I guess it's been almost surreal with every single day that has passed, but now that we're less than a week away...it's incredible. I can't wait."

"I'm so happy for you both," the young blonde gushed, flipping through page after page of everything they had decided.

It was one great flash of color; vibrant red and sunny yellow caught Emily's eye, and while she had never really been the little girl who had fantasized day after day of her princess wedding, she couldn't help but feel inexplicably giddy at the thought of having everything just _right_. She was in love with her bouquet already; the sight of red roses coupled with white lilies and small sunflower blossoms easily brightened her mood.

Then there was the matter of the bridesmaid dresses. And the cake and the boutonnières and the music and the food and the guest favors and –

_Oh my. _

Skye's voice eventually pulled her from her frantic yet perfect reverie. "So let's just do one last general overview of everything. Flowers, food, decorations, all that sweet stuff. All of the orders were placed last week, so we should have everything perfectly on time. The flowers are going to be freshly cut that morning; red amaryllis, hypercium berries, and white roses for the center of each dining table, then white calla lilies and French tulips along with cascading baby's breath for the altar itself. And then there's the matter of your gorgeous bouquet." Skye looked from Emily to Hotch, grinning widely. "You guys, this is going to be one beautiful wedding. One of the most beautiful I've ever had the honor to help plan."

"You're a lifesaver," Hotch said simply, as Emily nodded her emphatic agreement.

"It's just what I do," Skye laughed in response, her attention back on the planning book in front of her. "And can I just say your choice of bridesmaid dresses is just absolutely stunning, Emily? The soft gold color by itself is so classic and perfect for your color scheme, but the red inlay in the bodice...oh my goodness. Beautiful."

"Well, I had a little help with that one," Emily said, her gaze never leaving Hotch's. "Who would have ever guessed that this one is a closet fashion enthusiast?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Hotch's voice trailed off, making both women laugh.

"I kid, I kid," Emily relented with a luminescent smile.

"I know, sweetheart." His thumb stroked the arch of her hand slowly, and he watched, obviously amused, as a small shiver raced down her spine in result. It was something so slight that it shouldn't have even mattered, but to Hotch, it meant the world that he could have such an effect on her. He knew he had the ability to make her heart beat that much quicker because she did the exact same for him. Every single day.

He loved her like he was sure he would never love anyone else. She was his savior, his guiding light, his angel. She was his, and he wasn't ever going to mess that up ever again.

As Skye excitedly went on about his spot–on choice of boutonnières and their gorgeous cake ("Gold on white with red roses at the very bottom...that's like something out of a fairytale!"), both Hotch and Emily became more and more lost deeply in thought. It was their last meeting; the number of days until their wedding could be counted on one hand. Yet neither of them were nervous or anxious at all.

It was a different sort of excitement they were sharing at the moment, one whose definition could not possibly be found in any dictionary. Theirs had been quite the journey, over rocky terrain that consisted of heated arguments, rampant emotion, blood, sweat, tears, and unbridled lust. They had been stubborn at times, and incorrigible at others. But in the process, they had found themselves – and each other. Their eyes had been opened to a world of love that they could continue to give each other, just as they had those nine years ago. Innocent yet experienced love that provided the perfect sense of serenity and contentment.

There was really nothing more they could ask for.

~.~.~

"I don't understand why you feel like you need to starve yourself to fit in your dress. You're so slim...so gorgeous. Please eat something, Em."

Emily rolled her eyes indulgently at the man. "Aaron, you're making it sound like I haven't eaten in weeks," she pointed out drolly. "So what if I prefer salads over a burger?"

"It's a really good burger," Hotch said simply, smirking a little as he watched her bite her lip at the sight of the delicious–looking food. Evidently, when it came to things like this, it didn't take much to sway her. He made sure to file that bit of knowledge away for later.

She picked idly at her salad, but never once looked away from the food on his plate. She just couldn't help it; the chef in her was calling out, singing an overjoyed tune, and she just _had_ to know what magical ingredients had been put together to make such a beauty. "It looks like one..."

"Lamb with feta cheese," Hotch said in explanation, his voice and eyes taunting her in the most wicked of ways. "Oh, and tzatziki sauce. You love tzatziki sauce."

Emily outright groaned, then punched him playfully in the side. "You're such a terrible tease, Aaron."

There was a newfound darkness in Hotch's gaze now, a newfound huskiness and seduction in his voice. "Won't you have just one bite?"

"I suppose so," Emily caved eventually, and though her tone could have easily led one to believe the idea made her reluctant, she eagerly let Hotch feed her a morsel of the flavorful burger. "If you insist."

It was after Emily had finished raving about the delicious taste and after the two lovers had been gazing into one another's eyes for long enough to forget their surroundings that the other person at their table reminded them of his presence. _"You two make me sick." _

Both Hotch and Emily burst into simultaneous laughter at the sound of Sean's disgusted voice. It was beyond perfect to have Sean in town, at the table, with them, especially with the wedding so soon; who else would have been their best man? It seemed to have been an eternity since the three of them had gotten the chance to meet all together. And though their last experience had been less than stellar, they never once mentioned the falling out, for the past was the past, and all three of them were more than willing to accept that.

Hotch grinned cheekily at his younger brother. "It's our goal," he said matter-of-factly, twining his fingers with Emily's under the table. "Surely you've grasped that by now."

"Forgive me, I haven't," Sean grumbled under his breath, but neither party of the soon–to–be wedded couple missed the hint of a smirk teasing at the corner of his lips.

"Now, aren't you glad you brought us together in the first place, little brother?" Hotch asked rhetorically, his voice dripping with sarcasm; but the intent behind his question was absolutely serious. He knew he owed a hell of a lot to Sean.

Hotch couldn't even imagine living a life without having known Emily. Without knowing what it felt like to love somebody so much; to hold her, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and make love to her until everything else around them completely faded away. He hoped that he would someday be able to communicate at least a fraction of his gratitude to Sean. Someday.

"I know I am," Emily answered softly, before Sean could even get out a word in response. As accustomed as she was to every single aspect of her fiancé, she still couldn't prevent her heart from doing a little flip when Hotch squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile.

In contrast to his previous feigned distaste, Sean turned to the two with a truly pleased expression on his handsome face. "I'm very glad. I can now say that I'm not entirely a failure of a matchmaker." He shot his brother a childish grin that gradually morphed into something more heartfelt – in true Sean Hotchner fashion.

"I can't even picture how my life would have been like had you not introduced me to Aaron," Emily said to Sean, her gratefulness evident in her voice.

The lovers' gazes met. "I was just thinking the same exact thing," Hotch murmured, his eyes shining.

"But really," Sean inserted gently. "At the risk of sounding extremely clichéd, I've seen how good Emily is for you." His grin widened when Emily smiled in his direction. "And how good you are for Emily, as well. I'm...indescribably happy that you two have come this far, and I'm so excited to know that you two have an incredible future ahead of you," he said earnestly.

When Hotch looked back at Sean, it was with an expression that could only be equated to true familial affection. He gave his shoulder a shove from across the table, and both Hotchner brothers were reminded of the roughhousing they had indulged in when they had been too young to know of the ills of the world around them. "Now all you have to do is say those exact same words at our wedding, Mr. Best Man."

His food forgotten, Sean leaned back in his side of the booth and propped his hands behind his head, completely and utterly comfortable and content as he gazed at his two best friends. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

~.~.~

There was a flash of white on the dance floor; a swirl of expensive fabric, satin, lace, and chiffon. And then, an appreciative murmur in her ear, words that fanned against her porcelain skin. _"You look so beautiful."_

Emily basked in the glory that washed over her at his breath-taken, awestruck whisper. "You say that every day, Aaron," she reminded softly, her eyes glittering beatifically in the flattering light of the ballroom.

"Because it's true every day," Hotch said simply. "But today..." He barely managed to stifle an deep, appreciative groan. "Oh my God. I can hardly breathe."

"Breathe, baby. Don't die on me now." She shot him a wicked, feline grin. "You're going to need those lungs of yours later."

A growl met her ears as he spun her in his arms and dipped her just as the music came to a swell. Their first dance as husband and wife would soon be coming to an end, but it was as if neither was noticing; the hands of time had come to a lovely stop, and all that mattered was the moment they were living and enjoying. "You naughty girl."

Emily's lips found Hotch's cleanly and handsomely shaven cheek. "I love you," she said from the very bottom of her heart and soul, irrevocably love-struck and head over heels.

Hotch gazed at her with a playful sadness reflected in his gaze. "You beat me to it," he murmured dejectedly, and they shared a sweet smile and the shortest of kisses in result. Hotch had never known happiness quite like this; the feeling of having Emily in his arms as they were surrounded by the people they loved most was one he would trade for nothing in the entire universe. It defined his existence, made him feel whole.

It made him feel human.

"Guess what I tied around my bouquet," Emily said, her gentle voice pulling him back to the present. Her words could easily lull him into a world of fantasy and love that never dies; but Hotch decided to let that wait until the dark of night came over them. "Did you notice?"

Only then did he realize that Emily had long since pulled something from her bouquet and kept it in her hand for the entirety of their dance. Without another word, she pressed it into his palm, watching his face intently as he realized just what it was. "I had no idea...Emily."

It was the necklace he had given her for her birthday, too many years ago to even count. The red jade was still just as smooth and cool to the touch; the Chinese character still rang very true. Emily smiled, gazing lovingly at her husband – her husband! – as he ran his fingers gently over the fragile stone. "I would have kept it in my pocket, but to no one's surprise, there are no pockets in this dress," she explained cheekily.

His eyes never leaving hers, he tucked the necklace into his front jacket pocket, easily solving her 'problem'. "It's gorgeous," he praised, his breathing just the slightest bit shallow. A thumb ran circles on Emily's lower back, moving from the beautiful satin and up to the bare skin of her shoulder blades.

"I aim to please," she said, shrugging elegantly. Everything about her was elegant, even as the music came ever closer to a slow stop. Her delicately coiffed hair, her simple yet stunning makeup, the curves of her body as she swayed in time with the man that made up the other half of her heart...she was a vision. An angel. "I bet now you're glad I stuck with tradition and didn't let you see the dress until I walked down the aisle."

"You could say that again." They were barely moving now; time was slowly starting up again, but for a few seconds more, as the last chords of music played from the side of the large space, they would still be in their own little world. "Everything is absolutely perfect," Hotch noted, and tucked a strand of hair behind Emily's ear. Even the simplest of his touches made a shiver run down her spine. "Have you noticed that?"

"I've known that for years now, Aaron." Their foreheads rested against one another. "The perfect love of my life," Emily whispered, and her voice only barely met his ears. Even if he had been a deaf man, however, Hotch had the feeling he would have been able to hear –_ feel _– her words in his very core.

"I could say the exact same."

Emily smiled teasingly, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "So do it."

His lips found hers, and they kissed like nobody could possibly have been watching. "There's no other woman for me, Emily Hotchner," he said against the corner of her mouth, worshipping her skin as modestly as possible given their present circumstances.

A sigh slipped past her red smiling lips; those very same full lips that made Hotch forget his own name when he felt them on his skin. "That sounds _so nice."_

"I won't stop saying it," Hotch vowed. "Right now, tonight, ever."

"Tonight..." Emily's eyes fluttered shut, and the breath was stolen from her body as she thought of the twilight hours they would soon be sharing as man and wife, lover to lover bearing heart and soul in the most erotic of ways. "Oh, Aaron."

Their feet acted of their own volition as they moved toward the front of the ballroom, their song having ended long ago. Still, it was as if only the two of them inhabited the dazzlingly decorated space. "I plan on showing you just how much you've blessed me, Emily, love."

She shook her head at him adoringly, in the way one might have regarded a young child; a young boy with a flop of black hair covering his eyes and a toothy grin as he reached inside the cookie jar for a delightful sugary treat. It was just the same. "You don't need to show me anything," she admonished softly, the brown of her eyes filling him with a beautiful warmth.

"I want to," Hotch said; and nothing he had ever uttered – save for three meaningful words – had ever been more true.

When she regarded him this time, Emily's smile was the most brilliant Hotch had ever seen it, and he felt a true sense of accomplishment knowing that he'd had a hand in making her so happy. She had more than returned the favor, after all. "Well, then," she said, touching his lower lip reverently with the smallest of her fingers. "I certainly won't object."

~.~.~

As the last traces of Sean's heartfelt – yet, of course, duly embarrassing – speech as best man met their ears, Hotch and Emily went up to the front of the room, in front of all of their loved ones, to give a toast – one that echoed almost exactly the vows they had made to one another at the altar.

"Emily, ever since the first day I met you, when you very nearly refused to let me into the restaurant to see Sean because you had already closed up..." they both laughed at the memory, "ever since then, you've proven that you can make me the happiest man alive with every day that passes. Your smile, the way you understand me even when no words are spoken between us...I've never known love like this, and believe me when I say it is an honor to know that you feel the same way. I'm blessed." He brushed his thumb gently under her eye, stopping her sweet crying. Her ensuing watery smile nearly made his heart stop. "When I'm around you, I feel complete. I love you, Emily Hotchner. You mean _so_ much to me; you are my world."

"God, Aaron, must you always insist on making me cry?" The two of them shared a chuckle, as did many who were huddled lovingly around them. "I'll admit, as I've told you before, that I was skeptical when Sean first told me he wanted to introduce me to one last person, his very last attempt. When I heard it was his older brother, I figured I might as well give it – _you_ – a chance. And I'm unconditionally happy I did."

She grinned widely, her heart pounding, when he took her hands in his and brought them to his lips. "There really are no words to describe how I feel about you. Anything other than irrevocable love would simply fall short." Her eyes sparkled with so many emotions, too many to count. "I fell for you, Aaron. Hard. And when I had to leave for Connecticut...it tore me apart, but you _understood_. I never stopped loving you, and I don't think I ever will. I can't promise you perfection, or that we won't have more of our ups and downs; but we've proven in the past that we grow from our mistakes, haven't we? There have been rocky elements to our past..." Her voice trailed away, and just as she had known he would, Hotch finished her sentence for her.

"But look at how far we've come."

"Yes," she whispered tearily.

"A long time ago, I promised myself that I'd give you your happily ever after, no matter what." His voice softened, so much so that it was almost only Emily that could hear him. "What do you think, Em? Have I kept my promise?"

Emily gazed deeply into his eyes, so deeply that she swore she knew his every secret; so deeply that she knew every crevice of his soul. "You always do," she said simply.

The happiness was near overwhelming as Hotch turned this time to their audience. "Which is why we want to thank each and every one of you so very much for attending, and sharing this beautiful day with us. All of you hold a very special place in our hearts, and this moment would simply not have been the same without having all of you here."

"To our parents," Emily said, catching the eyes of her mother and father, and knowing that Hotch was giving his mother a smile, "we love you so incredibly much. I know I speak for Aaron when I say I am grateful for everything you all have done to raise us in the way you knew was best. Without your endless adoration, dedication, and patience, we would not be the people we are today. To put it quite simply, thank you for absolutely everything."

"To our bridesmaids and groomsmen, our maid of honor and best man; to our friends and family," Hotch continued, "thank you for showering us with affection and companionship whenever we needed it most. Thank you for the shoulders to cry on, the kindred spirits to laugh with, the support systems and advice–givers. Having you here, in this ballroom, in our lives, is the greatest blessing of all. I can only hope and pray that, together, we will forever be surrounded by the ones we love in our future."

And as the attendees began to break out in passionate applause, Hotch and Emily finally turned back to one another, dreams of a happily ever after fresh on their mind. "To our future," they said to one another in unison, their glasses clinking. Their gazes locked as Emily rested her head on his shoulder, her lips finding the hollow of his throat as he turned to drop a tiny kiss in her hair.

~.~.~

_"To our future,"_ they repeated dazedly as they lay in bed that night, tangled in one another and in the clean, sweet–smelling sheets.

"I love you, Aaron Hotchner," Emily said against his skin, as she nestled deep into his warm, safe embrace. She felt truly at home with his arms around her waist, and her heart beat wildly at the thought of starting the rest of their lives this way – together.

"I love you more, Emily Hotchner." His lips found hers in a whisper soft, gentle, and heartbreakingly sweet kiss. "Now get some rest, beautiful. We have a glorious week ahead of us." _A glorious life._

The kiss was all Emily needed to fall finally in a deep and beautiful sleep, with Hotch right by her side.

**THE END. **

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I say this nearly every time I finish a multi-chapter story, but words truely cannot describe how magnificent a time I've had writing<em> Kiss the Cook<em>. It's been a sort of eye-opening experience for me; in the process, I'd like to think that I've learned more about not only writing, but about love and the trials and tribulations of every relationship. It's an amazing experience to be able to pour your heart and soul out into dialogue and description, and I know I am partially indebted to you all for that; for being able to see the beauty in even the darkest, most twisted moments of this story - of any of my stories. That right there is something I am so incredibly grateful for, and that I will never forget.****

****If you can, please leave me a review, ****_even if you haven't before_****. Reviews are very nearly our only sense of compensation here on FanFiction, and they really do mean the world to us – to me. Signed or anonymous, short or long, your reviews are priceless to me; they are like the finest treasure, and I can say without a doubt that there are times I know I wouldn't have been able to keep on trekking through this beast of a story without your support and dedication. So thank you again, so very much.****

****Stay tuned for one last tie-in oneshot to the KTC universe, which should be posted some time next week! Much love to you all.****


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